#and fill tool my beloved but that’s not a brush

[lezbiansolidsnake]

mgs medibang things SMILES !!!!!!!!!!!

[tgcg]

ms paint. you know her. u used her age 8 to make loads of rainbow ovals all over the canvas and then scramble it with selection tool. now u will know her true powers with my handyrandy tips under the readmore. some will be pretty basic and others are very special.

this post has 8 cool trix to learn for you. enjoy and i may do another in the future if i remember/learn more stuff

some of it might be common knowledge. but its got some deep cuts. all tips have gifs to show process easily.

🙂 enjoy and i hope this encourages you to fuck around in mspaint more

soundtrack for this post (loop it while you learn for advanced learning experience)

TIP 1) the right click trick

left and right mouse click correspond to col1 and col2 respectively, which u can see in the top bar. this applies to all brushes and the fill tool like above. when using shapes col2 will be the fill colour (if you have solid fill selected). right clicking with shape maker will reverse the colours use on the shape.

TIP 2) right click eraser

this one is extremely helpful for lineart or add shading. the eraser always uses col2. so your eraser can technically be any colour. but here's where you get powers: right clicking with eraser will only erase onto col1, with col2.

TIP 3) transparent selection change a guy destination

the beloved transparent selection tool works based on what is selected as col2. so long as you have the correct colour as col2 you can make any image transparent and put it on top of anything else. and yes this works with photo bg as you can see.

TIP 4) the gradience

this one is a little more complex. you want to start off with any canvas size, and make as many diagonal coloured bands as you want. (protip: holding down shift makes a perfectly diagonal line with line tool)

then you need to resize the canvas to a width of 1px (make sure you resize by pixels, and do not maintain aspect ratio). then resize again back to its original width (or a different width i cant stop you). you will have your lovely gradience.

TIP 5) superimposter

so. you got a cool gradient and wanna put a guy on it. heres what i do:

i open a 2nd mspaint with same canvas size and draw whatever i want on there. i then pick a completely unrelated colour to my entire piece, and set that as the bg. you could use white, pink, geen, whatever you want as long as it doesnt appear somewhere else in ur drawing. copy the guy.

go back to your gradient tab. ensure that col2 is set as that bg colour you picked (lilac for me). have "transparent selection" enabled. paste your guy in. cue fanfare

TIP 6) advanced superimposter

the great thing about this method is u can put multiple gradients in multiple areas of the image. this is where it gets all japanese printmaking type of shit. ukiyo-esque

all you need to do is make another canvas with a new gradient, ensure col2 is set as the colour you want to replace, then paste your original piece onto the new gradient. now my guy has a soft fade. you can do this as much as you want. (you could even make a canvas with a texture or photo and paste your drawing onto there)

TIP 7) "sketch layer"

so as you now know, col2 is what is removed when you click "transparent selection". which means you can also remove any instance of a colour from ur drawing. which means you can have a unique colour for sketch layer and remove it from the drawing later. i admittedly dont do this but it is a great trick to have.

now combine this with lowering your dpi for smoother lines. may seem obvious but it helps. its like a free stabiliser whenever u want.

TIP 8) rainbow art

now this is where you can get dizzee rascal "bonkers". check out my small and shitty rainbow trick. you can select anything and hold down shift, then drag with left mouse, to turn that selection into its own brush. i even did it with a guy. and you can of course do this with a photo as well.

🙂well that it for now. hope you liked it thanks for reading now back to your regularly scheduled tgcg programming

[asteroshearts]

Imprint

Sylus (Qin Che 秦彻) x Reader

Tags: Wuxia themes/AU (no specific time period, not historically accurate ;;;), established relationship, you both have long hair (Confucian philosophy), you're a spoiled spouse hehe

Lazy steam rolled out of the tub, curling across shiny wooden walls and creating a haze in your vision.

With the fragrance of berries and basil filling the air, you sighed heavily, eyes closed. Leaning back against the tub, your shoulders fell in sleepiness.

The water was like an embrace against your bare skin, relieving you from the ache in your head the longer you sat.

Drousy, you began to hum a tune you heard some street musicians play on your day out earlier.

Pressing your cheek against the cool rim of the tub, your melody carried gently across the room—

Until another tune, rumbly, off beat, and off key, joined you.

Your eyebrow twitched irritably, forcing your heavy eyelids to open. How could you relax with such a grating—

"Husband!" you gasped, a smile fitting on your lips. Smirking at the sight of you, face bare and shiny, radiant limbs rising out of the water, Qin Che walked toward your side. The closer he stepped into the steam, the clearer his visage became.

Kneeling at your side, you threw your arm around him, pressing your bare, wet form against his luxurious robes. An amused grin appeared on his lips when the arm that curled around his neck released his waist-length hair from its bun. Threading your wet fingers across silver, you pressed several messy kisses to his cheek.

With the last kiss, he leaned in after you as you pulled back to press against the tub, chasing after your kiss. With your eyes closed again, a small, relaxed smile lingered on your lips.

"You're home early, did training go well?" you asked.

"Hm." Dark red eyes trained on your form. He didn't want to think of work. "I couldn't miss your beautiful song. You thought you could perform without me to witness it?"

You let out an undignified snort. A nobleman once told him that the birds stopped singing at the sound of his voice, but both caught on to the underlying jab.

Waving your hand carelessly, with your eyes still closed, you gestured to the tray of hair tools and ornaments by your side.

"Che, could you brush my hair?" you requested without a glance.

"Oh?" He leaned in so close, you could feel his presence on the shell of your ear. "I'm your honorable husband, yet you want me to covet you like a servant?"

A smirk appeared on your lips as you felt large hands gather your hair.

"And a beloved wife can't ask for this simple task?" you parried back.

Taking your hair in his hands, he sat behind you on your handmaiden's stool. Taking the comb from the tray, you felt slow, languid drags across your strands. A delighted hum fell from your lips at the gentle, rhythmic sensation.

"You know what the officials have told me before?" he asked, voice rumbling, pulling your hair over his lap. "That in turn for providing, and for the husband's kindness, the wife should give respect and obedience."

He remembered barking out a laugh at them then. If only they knew. You hardly heeded his orders, and if anyone was the sun in the relationship, it was you, while he was the moon.

A huff and a pout appeared on your lips.

You heard a soft click when he placed the comb back on the tray. Carefully patting the top of your head to smooth out the flyaways, he then tossed your hair over your left shoulder, exposing the nape of your neck. Placing both hands on your biceps, you leaned in when you felt his lips on your bare neck.

"What do you have to offer me for my services, hm?" You felt the vibration of his voice on your skin.

"Hmmmm..." You pretended to go in a thinking pose. "I suppose... I shall permit you to enter my marital bed tonight."

"Oh?" His red eyes flashed with further amusement. "I," he emphasized, "receive permission to enter your marital bed?"

A smug smirk crossed your face as you finally opened your eyes, turning around in the water to look at him, only to loudly gasp and let out a startled shriek.

"Husband! Your clothes!" Looking down at his chest and his lap, in the area where you pressed your wet body against him for the hug, the dye had run across multiple layers of his silk robes, bleeding black against red jacquard fabric. On the darker fabric, some of the color had lightened.

Looking down at your bare chest, you couldn't see any remnants of the dye on your skin. It must've washed away in the water.

Hurriedly, you twisted in the tub to face him, splashing soapy water over the rim. Placing both hands on his cheeks, you turned his head back and forth to try and spot any dye that stained his neck or jaw. However, instead of appearing worried, his smirk only deepened. Without his ruby eyes leaving yours, he left a kiss on your palm and nuzzled his cheek against your hand like one of the Dragon Lis you had on your grounds.

"Che!" you scolded at how lighthearted he was. "This is serious! You have a meeting within the hour! What will your officers think?!"

"Yes, tell me what will they think?" he languidly asked.

"Your reputation!" you urged. "Oh, we have to get you changed!" You didn't want him to lose face if the emperor's beloved general came to a meeting with ruined robes. "Call the servants, or we'll get the boys to get you new clothes!" Shooting out your hand, you attempted to reach the porcelain bell to summon the servants. His large hand fell over yours, easily holding you back as you tried to push or pull back.

"You know what I think they'll say?" he asked. Lacing your fingers with his, even as you tried to fight him off, he used his free hand to gesture down at the running, fading dye. Pouting like a cat, his smile only grew more bemused at your cute expressions. "Look at this form on me, look at this mark you left on my clothes." The stains were framed with your nude body.

He leaned in, and you averted your gaze out of embarrassment.

"I think my officers will see that my darling wife can't contain her happiness around her husband, that she will come and embrace me upon the mere sight of me. Even as she's relaxing in her bath, she can't help but drop what she's doing."

And you wanted him to get rid of this? Get rid of the proof of your endearment?

He took a knee at your side, looking up at you. Taking your still-dripping hand, he pressed it against his heart, and you could see under your fingertips that the dye ran even further in the imprint of your palm.

You suddenly felt warmer than when your maids freshly poured the water in.

"And for her affection, am I not willing to trade in some ruined clothes and undone hair?"

[factual-fantasy]

I've just finished reading your response for the first time,

First off, thank you very much for the GIF and Video, as well as the explanations. I can definitely work with this.

I've downloaded and installed FireAlpaca for myself so I can start comparing what I'm seeing vs what is supposed to happen.

Immediately, Something stood out as weird to me: You're selecting multiple tools at once. That's... not supposed to happen. I tried it myself, Opened like 20 tabs and just started throwing colours at each canvas. This doesn't happen for me At all.

So I'm gonna give you some more instructions. (Tl:Dr for the instructions at the bottom, just above my little rant)

Backing Up your Brushes

FIRST let's make sure you don't lose all of your beloved brushes. from what I'm about to suggest.

in FA, I want you to go to Help > Open Config Folder

That will lead to a folder that, for me, looks like this

Keep in mind that it could look different for you, I have a fresh install with no cool special brushes. (also I can't draw to save my life)

Now simply Ctrl+A (select all) and copy it to another folder. go to like... Documents or Downloads or something, Make a folder called "Brushes Backup" and Paste all of it in there.

Alright, now to the actual thing I want you to do.

2. and 3. Uninstall and Reinstall FireAlpaca

There is some weird glitch I cannot Reproduce. So Just Reinstall FireAlpaca. this is the reason I wanted you to back up your brushes. Deleting the program and reinstalling will nuke all of the settings you use, so by copying the Config folder, you can easily reinstate your settings.

4. Testing

After you have reinstalled the program, I want you to open it, and mess around for however long you think it will take to trigger the glitch. (which sounded like only a few minutes) and see if something happens.

If not: Great!

If yes: You might want to reach out to https://firealpaca.com/report/ and fill out a bug report, and tell them that you have no way of reproducing the bug. (although I really think reinstalling will work)

5. Reinstating your brushes

Now, after you've made sure that FireAlpaca works, only then do I want you to Open the config folder again and put your brushes back. (simply close FireAlpaca after you've opened the folder, delete everything that's in it, and then copy everything from your "Backup Folder" into the config folder. )

6. Testing Part 2: Electric boogaloo

Then if you re-open FireAlpaca I want you to once again mess around a little and pay attention. Because the Bug might come back.

If it DOES come back, It might be one of your settings/brushes that is causing it. Which in that case I unfortunately have to suggest starting over with your brushes.

To recap: I'm asking you to:

Back up your brushes

Uninstall FireAlpaca

Reinstall FireAlpaca

Test to see if the weirdness is gone

Restore your brushes

Test to see if the weirdness is still gone

--- Rant Below ---

I have no clue what's happening to your program. This looks like some bug in the code that just causes FA to say "Nope" and stop responding to the side bar.

This acutally reminds me of a bug I've been encountering in Unity where the program refuses to open one of the UI pages in the Program's settings, which just completely shuts me out of the settings for one of the input libraries. Funnily enough it actually printed an error in my console, and the error was thrown so incredibly deep into compiled code that I was pretty sure I was reading Unity Source Code at that point.

I still don't know what's happening. Luckily I have Other People to interact with that settings page for me.

(This ask is in response to this post)

So once again I took sometime to test all this out, but unfortunately it didn't take me very long to come back with bad news.

So this is exactly what I did in this order:

I went to my config folder and copied everything into a new folder I created in my Documents tab. Then I went to my settings > apps > FireAlpaca and uninstalled. I then went to the official website and reinstalled it.

I opened up what should have been a fresh FireAlpaca and found this,

The red numbers are brushes that I have adjusted/used. And the "Fire roller (multiple colors)" and "twisted ribbon" are brushes that didn't come with FireAlpaca by default. I downloaded them afterwards from their little brush shop. For some reason FireAplaca remembered my brushes..

And of course, FireAlpaca was still breaking in the way that I've described in your last ask.

So I thought "Okay, I don't care if I lose my brushes and settings. I just want FireAlpaca to work." So I deleted that copied folder from Documents that I made, I unpinned FireAlpaca from my taskbar and deleted the desktop shortcut too just to he extra safe I guess..? Then I went to settings > apps > FireAlpaca and hit uninstall. Then went back to the website, reinstalled the latest version and wouldn't you know it,

All the exact same brushes, in the same order with the same settings. And FireAlpaca continued to break the same way.

So now I'm wondering if I did something wrong.. why does FireAlpaca keep remembering my settings? Did I do the uninstall process wrong? I wondered if that cache thing might be holding data or something? I've heard about that before. But with the help of a friend recently I cleared my Google Chrome and Laptop's caches. And FireAplaca didn't change at all and I didn't lose any of my settings. So that cant help me here..

I wonder if somehow my pen could be a problem? I've dropped it on the hard floor 100s of times. Could it be contributing? And what did I do wrong in this process for FireAlpaca to remember all my brush settings?

If anyone has any advice I would love to hear it <:(( Please and thank you very much 🙏🙏🙏

[erebusbabylon]

Prompt: Celebrimbor teaching reader to use the forge as a way to spend more time with her, but she has an accident and gets hurt/burns herself or something and he has to take care of her

Can we have that? As a lil treat?

Awwee this was a cute prompt! I hope you like what I did with your request! <3

Accident at the Anvil

(RoP! Celebrimbor x F! Reader) - No Warnings

You gazed out of a tall window, watching as the last rays of sunlight filtered through the trees, your heart heavy with longing. Celebrimbor had been consumed by his work lately, tirelessly forging armor for the Elven army. Each day felt longer without him by your side.

With a sigh, you turned away from the window and sought the company of a close friend. “I miss him,” you confessed, your voice laced with sadness. “He’s gone all hours of the day, and I hardly see him anymore.”

Your friend nodded sympathetically. “His work is important. But you deserve time together too.”

Determined, you decided to visit the forge. You made your way through the winding paths of Eregion, the sound of hammers striking metal growing louder as you approached.

The forge was alive with the glow of molten metal, the air thick with the smell of smoke and heat. You stepped inside, the warmth wrapping around you like a comforting cloak. Celebrimbor stood at the anvil, his brow furrowed in concentration, surrounded by pieces of intricate armor.

“Ah, my light,” he said, setting down his tools. He wiped his brow and approached you. “What brings you here?”

“I missed you,” you replied, your heart swelling at the sight of him. “I am desperate to be near you.”

He smiled but quickly glanced back at the armor. “I miss you too, beloved, but I have to finish this armor quickly. The army needs it.”

You felt a pang of disappointment but understood. The urgency of his task weighed heavily on him. “I know,” you said gently. “But I feel like I hardly see you anymore.”

Celebrimbor paused, his gaze softening as he stepped closer. “You’re right. I have been neglecting our time together. How about this: keep me company while I work? I can teach you how to forge a bit if you'd like.”

Your heart leaped at the suggestion. “Really? I would love that!”

He chuckled, a light in his eyes. “But you must promise to be careful. The forge can be dangerous.”

“I promise,” you replied, excitement bubbling within you.

Celebrimbor began explaining the basics of forging. He demonstrated how to shape metal, the rhythm of the hammer striking against the anvil, and how to manage the fire.

As the hours passed, you found joy in the process. The heat of the forge felt invigorating, especially as you worked alongside Celebrimbor, stealing glances at him when he concentrated on his craft. The bond between you deepened with each shared moment.

“Remember to keep your hands steady,” he advised, guiding your movements as you attempted to shape a piece of metal. “And never lose focus.”

You nodded, intent on following his advice. But as you worked, your excitement made you a bit careless. While reaching for a tool, your sleeve brushed against a large, glowing ember, sending a sharp pain shooting through your arm.

You gasped, pulling back in shock. Celebrimbor turned sharply, concern flooding his face as he rushed to your side.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice filled with urgency.

You looked down at your arm, a burn already reddening the skin. “I… I didn’t mean to—”

“We need to tend to this,” he said, his tone shifting from alarm to calm efficiency. The warmth of the forge suddenly felt overwhelming as he wrapped an arm around you, guiding you away from the heat.

Celebrimbor led you into his study, away from the forge’s heat. He quickly gathered supplies, his hands moving with practiced ease. You watched him, your heart swelling with gratitude and a hint of worry.

“Does it hurt, my love?” he asked softly, kneeling beside you as he cleaned the burn with gentle precision.

“It’s not too bad,” you replied, though the pain tinged your voice.

His brow furrowed in concern. “I should have kept a closer eye on you.”

“It was my mistake, not yours,” you reassured him. “I wanted to impress you.”

As he applied a soothing salve, his touch was both gentle and firm. You felt the warmth of his presence ease the sting of the burn.

“I care for you deeply,” he said, placing a kiss over your bandaged burn. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

You smiled softly, feeling the weight of his words. “I know. I am okay, truly.”

“I am so sorry you got hurt. I would never forgive myself if something happened to you…” His voice trailed off.

You cupped his face in your hands. “This small burn is a price I would pay tenfold if it meant I got to spend time with you.”

You placed a soft kiss on his forehead. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

Trying to ease his guilt, you attempted to make him laugh. “Do all your smiths receive these same healing services from you?” You asked with a grin.

“Only the ones who share my bed,” he quipped back with a wink.

[aquamarixx]

read some of your latest event fics and loved them! can I request romarriche with the concept of blooming roses (to hopefully match new beginnings theme) fluff! sorry if my english is weird!

among rose blossoms

the blooming roses under the golden hour will be the witness of you and Romarriche’s unspoken feelings that definitely won’t go unnoticed. 

‎‧₊˚✧ TURNING POINT 2025 ENTRY ✧˚₊‧ pairing romarriche x reader word count 2.3k words tags sort of longtime friends, mutual pining, fluff, gn! reader (but i do love thinking how it's a female guard who's rough around the edges matching romarriche's gentleness), anyway we love romarriche in this household navigation

The scent of blooming roses hung heavy in the air as you walked through the castle’s corridors. You had always thought it strange how their fragrance lingered even in the heart of winter.

Perhaps it was because Romarriche, the Knight of Fragaria, made sure his beloved Marroncream’s gardens flourished year-round. The thought of him—graceful yet strong, endlessly kind yet burdened by his duties—was enough to draw a small, involuntary smile to your lips.

Your steps echoed as you approached his quarters. A quiet knock, followed by his soft voice bidding you enter, brought you into a space that was entirely, unmistakably him.

The room was filled with delicate touches: embroidered pillows, neatly arranged tools for sewing, and a vase of freshly cut roses on his desk. He looked up from the cloak he was mending, his brown eyes lighting up as they met yours.

“Ah, my dearest guard,” Romarriche said with a kind smile, his voice as soft as silk. “Come to whisk me away from my duties?”

“If only I could,” you replied gruffly, though the warmth in his gaze made your heart stutter. “You shouldn’t be doing that, though. Isn’t there someone else who could mend that?”

He chuckled, setting the cloak aside. “If I let others do all the work, what kind of knight would I be?” Rising gracefully, he crossed the room toward you. “Besides, I quite enjoy it. Just as I enjoy… this.”

You blinked, feeling heat rise to your cheeks as he adjusted the scarf he’d made for you weeks ago. The soft fabric was impossibly warm, and you knew it had taken hours of meticulous work. His fingers lingered, brushing against your skin for a moment too long before he stepped back with a satisfied smile.

Today was your day off and Romarriche has asked you to accompany him for the day. You found yourself standing near the castle gates, unarmed and dressed in civilian clothes. The scarf Romarriche had given you was wrapped snugly around your neck, its warmth a welcome comfort against the cool breeze. When he appeared, wearing a simple yet elegant coat, his smile was brighter than the morning sun.

“You’re wearing it,” he said, his tone pleased as he reached out to adjust the scarf again. His fingers lingered briefly, and you caught the faint scent of roses clinging to him. “It suits you.”

The walk through downtown was lively, filled with the chatter of townsfolk and the bustling energy of the market. Romarriche’s presence was magnetic. People stopped to greet him, their eyes filled with admiration and gratitude.

You watched as he spoke with each person—listening intently, offering kind words, and ensuring that no concern went unnoticed. It was in these moments that you were reminded of his strength, not just as a knight but as a leader.

After hours of walking and chatting, you began the journey back to the castle. The setting sun bathed the town in a warm, golden glow, but Romarriche’s steps faltered near the gardens.

“You must see the roses,” he said, as he pulls you by the hand. “They’re in full bloom, and I don’t want you to miss them.”

He led you to a secluded section of the garden where red roses stretched as far as the eye could see, their petals illuminated by the golden hour light. You couldn’t help but marvel at the beauty of it, though your attention quickly shifted to him. He seemed lighter here, his usual composed demeanor softening as he spoke of his duties and his hopes for lasting peace.

Ever since he was appointed as Marroncream’s Knight, you’ve been a guard at the castle. You’ve seen him grow into the role and despite his soft motherly energy, there’s this strength behind him. While others admired Romarriche as the soft-spoken Knight of Fragaria, you had the privilege of seeing his strength underneath in everything he does. 

That’ why you’ve admired him. For so long. And you’ve vowed yourself not only to serve Marroncream but also to be a shoulder Romarriche can lean on. Because who else would the knight have, if not his most loyal guard?

“You’re doing a remarkable job,” you blurted out of nowhere, your voice firm but sincere. “You’re strong and resilient, Romarriche, but even a knight needs someone to lean on. Whatever happens, I’ll be by your side. To fight for you. To protect you.”

His eyes widened, and for a moment, he seemed at a loss for words. Then his expression softened, a rare vulnerability breaking through his calm facade.

“How lucky I am to have you,” he murmured. “One day, when peace finally comes, I hope you’ll accompany me to see the Red Continent. Together.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. You don’t know what lies behind his offer but for you, there’s a silent acknowledgement of the feelings you guys have for each other. “I’d like that.”

As the sun began to set, you noticed the faint lines of exhaustion on his face. Before he could dismiss you, you gently brought his head to rest on your shoulder.

“Just for a moment,” you said quietly. “Close your eyes. Take a breather.”

To your surprise, he did as you asked. His weight against you was comforting, and as his breathing evened out, you felt a pang of protectiveness unlike any you’d ever known. When Merold appeared, his gaze fell on the two of you, but he said nothing. Instead, he smiled and retreated, leaving you and Romarriche in peace.

You pressed a soft kiss to the crown of his head, the gesture as fleeting as the golden light fading from the sky. One day, you thought. One day you’d tell him how you felt. But for now, it was enough to stay by his side, to be his shield and his solace, as he worked toward a brighter tomorrow.

“It’s okay to let your guard down sometimes,” you whispered. “We’ll face the new day together.”

amari's notes: hi anon! it took a while for me to get this out, i wasn't confident if i wrote him well. but i hope i was about to do him justice. i love the blooming roses concept and it felt so fitting to pair romarriche's softness with a guard! reader who's has a good "opposites attract" kinda dynamic hehe if you get what i mean i did enjoy writing this and it makes me so happy to write more about fragaria memories in the future! anyway, I’d love to hear your thoughts, so feel free to leave a reply or drop an ask or even a request! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

[naeverse]

Dear My Beloved (2/2)

~Ｖｉｃｅ ＃３~

𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝟑: 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐥

(𝐎𝐜𝐭. 𝟏𝟑-𝟏𝟗)

----

𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳:

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯.

-

"𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯."

Ｍｕｓｉｃ：

"𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘉𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘛𝘰 𝘔𝘦" - 𝘏𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘯 𝘍𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳

"𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘖𝘰𝘨𝘶𝘮 𝘉𝘰𝘰𝘨𝘶𝘮 𝘚𝘰𝘯𝘨" - 𝘉𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘰𝘯 𝘞𝘰𝘰𝘥

🤎staring: Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

      👗preview: But then, everything seemed to stop.

The music faded into the background as, almost in a trance, you stared at the kitchen tool in your hand, the hum slowing on your lips.

Twirling it between your fingers, your eyes traced the jagged edge. Transfixed, your hands ached with an foreign yet strangely familiar desire—one buried deep in the recesses of your mind.

The record player  suddenly grabbed your attention when the previous song's lyrics of adoration from Helen Foster shifted.

The tune slowed, the pitch of the female singer’s voice deepening to an haunting croak.

 “Nothing is what it seems… Oh dear, nothing is what it seems...”

💄summary: It’s your husband Miguel’s birthday, a day that should be filled with love and celebration. Yet, something feels…off. 

🎂tw/cw: 1950s Era, Abuse, Angst, Blood, Body Horror, Death, Despair, Disturbing Imagery, Emotional Manipulation, Gore, Grief, Hallucinations, Mental Breakdown, Mental Illness, No Smut, Paranoia, Psychological Horror, Trauma, Violence, 

💙Pet names: Amor (Love), Bebé (Baby), Cariño (Darling), Esposa (Wife), Mi amor (My love)

     ♥️Rating: 18+ explicit I ANGST I

 🎵 Word Count: Total - 14.5k, Part 2 - 8.2k words

Art found on Pinterest, all credit go to original artists/designers/photographers 

All credit also goes to musicians as I do not own the two songs heavily used in this oneshot. 😊

Dividers and mood board was created by me.

⚠️⚠️ Trigger Warning: This section contains highly sensitive content, including blood, trauma, verbal abuse, mental health struggles, and death. If any of these topics may be triggering for you, please proceed with caution and at your own discretion. ⚠️⚠️

“MAMA!!”

You froze, eyes wide, breath catching in your throat. Hastily, you pushed Miguel away, panic rising in your chest. “Did you hear that?!” you asked, your voice tight with alarm.

For once, Miguel’s expression mirrored the terror that gripped you. Rising from the couch, he reached out to steady you as both of you looked toward the stairs, your pulse pounding in your ears. The air between you was heavy now—this wasn’t just the innocent sound of a child’s call.

Something was wrong…

Your husband moved first, his long legs quickly striding to the stairway. He climbed them in an instant, with you close behind.

“Princesa!? Gabriella!?” Miguel’s thunderous voice echoed down the hall of your family home.

“Gabi?!” you called out, your heart hammering, never feeling this level of panic before.

Miguel walked briskly down the narrow upstairs hallway, flanked by four doors—two leading to bathrooms, one to your shared bedroom, and the last to Gabriella’s room.

Frantically, you tore through each room, throwing open doors, your eyes scanning for any trace of your daughter. With each second that passed, the dread in your chest grew heavier. “Gabi?!” your voice cracked as it echoed off the walls. But the silence that followed was unbearable.

She wasn’t there.

Meeting in the hallway, your teary eyes locked with Miguel’s. His stern gaze didn’t falter, but the tension in his clenched jaw betrayed his growing desperation.

“One last door, cariño. She’s here,” he said, his voice resolute as his knuckle brushed your cheek in a soothing gesture. But the flicker of anger in his eyes spoke volumes—anger at the unknown, at his own helplessness.

Swallowing hard, your throat dry, you both turned toward Gabriella’s bathroom.

Miguel let out a frustrated grunt, and with the force of a charging bull, he bursted the door open. You pushed past him, your feet hitting the cold tiles when you entered the room.

The bathroom hit you like a slap. The air was heavy, unnaturally still, and it clung to your skin in a way that made every nerve scream with unease. The cold tiles beneath your feet were a stark contrast to the warmth of the hallway carpet, a biting reminder of how wrong everything felt.

⚠️⚠️(Trigger Warning Approaching!!)) ⚠️⚠️ 

Skip to this if you wish to avoid it >> 🤎💙

Your hand scrambled along the wall, fumbling for the light switch. When the harsh fluorescent bulbs buzzed to life with a sickly hum, the scene before you came into focus.

And you froze.

The color drained from your face, your breath caught in your chest, and your knees felt as if they might give way beneath you. The bathtub, the room, the sight—it all sucked the life out of you in one brutal instant.

‘This has to be a dream. Let this be a fucking dream.’

But it wasn’t.

Gabriella was there, hunched over the edge of the bathtub.

Your sweet little girl—the same one who had just been beaming with joy as she dashed upstairs to fetch her gift—now laid lifelessly. Her small body was draped over the edge, twisted in a way that made her look like a discarded, broken doll. The innocence of her form had been stolen, transformed into something grotesque.

You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. The world had stopped spinning, leaving you trapped in this moment of unimaginable horror.

🤎💙 Safe to continue reading💙🤎

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head frantically. “No, no, no. This isn’t happening. This can’t be real.”

Your voice broke, a sob ripping through your chest while stepping back on trembling legs. “My daughter. My sweet little girl.” Tears blurred your vision, cascading down your cheeks as you sank to your knees.

“Oh, gosh, w-what happened to you? This can’t be real. No, no, no.” The words spilled from your lips in a torrent of grief and denial.

A guttural cry tore from your chest, raw and unrelenting, shaking your entire body. Your hands gripped the fabric of your blue dress so tightly that your knuckles turned white, the tears soaking the material until it clung to your trembling form.

Your heart raced, your breathing uneven, and your head throbbed with disbelief and terror. The questions, the pleas, the desperate prayers poured out of you in a relentless stream, each one more frantic than the last.

But the pain was too much.

Your vision blurred further, darkening at the edges as the world around you began to fade. Overwhelmed by the sheer weight of grief, your body gave out, collapsing into unconsciousness.

As darkness enveloped you, fragments of thoughts slipped through the cracks of your mind.

‘Please don’t be real.’

‘My sweet girl, Gabriella.’

‘I can’t lose you.’

‘I can’t lose you.’

And then, like a flickering light extinguished, your final thoughts faded into the void.

“Mi amor…”

“Shh, it’s okay. Everything will be okay.”

“You are okay.”

Your eyes slowly fluttered open, your body weak and trembling. A pounding headache reverberated through your skull—a pain so excruciating that even thinking was a grueling task.

“W-where am I?” you whispered, struggling to sit up from your crumpled position on the ground. Surrounded you a cold, dark hallway—one that sent a chill down your spine. The memories came rushing back, sharp and unbearable, as a strangled sob escaped your throat.

“G-Gabi. Oh gosh.” You wept into your hands, the ache in your chest only intensifying when the horrific moment played out in your mind once more.

Above, the lights flickered on, one by one, casting an eerie glow over the hallway. The endless stretch of white doors along the walls appeared stark and unnervingly perfect. Each was identical—smooth, sleek, and disturbingly pristine. No wood grain or signs of age, no layers of paint chipped over time. Just a clinical, sterile design that felt foreign. These weren’t the familiar, warm doors of your home.

Your gaze stretched down the corridor. The symmetry of the doors and the sterile glow of the flickering lights heightened the unsettling atmosphere. Your stomach churned, a sense of dread sinking deep into your bones.

Shakily, you rose to your feet, your legs trembling beneath you. You were still barefoot, dressed in the pastel blue dress you had worn earlier, although your jumbo curls were now a mess and in need of another douse in hairspray. 

Everything about you was the same, yet you felt completely different—wrecked by despair that gripped you tighter with every thought of your little girl and…

Miguel. 

Your eyes darted around frantically, trying to seek him to find no other being in sight. 

Where was he? He had been with you when…

“Y/N!?”

His voice boomed through the hallway, shattering the silence.

Your head whipped toward the sound—a desperate yell followed by loud bangs against one of the white doors.

“Amor! Esposa!” Miguel’s frantic voice echoed as he jiggled the doorknob. “Fuck, it’s locked! I’m in here, baby! Open the door!”

“Miguel!?” you cried out, rushing toward the source of his voice.

“Y/N! Oh, bebé, I’m so happy to hear you are okay,” he said, relief breaking through his panicked tone.

“M-me too. But Miguel, Gabi—”

“I know, amor,” he interrupted, his voice cracking slightly. “First, I need you to open the door. There’s…something in here with me.”

His words sent a chill through your entire body.

“It’s chasing me through these halls. I can’t see it, and—shit—it stabbed me.”

“It stabbed you!?” you exclaimed, horrified, pressing yourself against the door wishing to be there next to him more than anything.

“Yes,” he groaned. “Nothing fatal, though.” But his weakening tone betrayed his words.

“It’ll be okay, Miguel. I-I’ll open the door. I’ll get you out.”

Your hands shook as you gripped the doorknob, turning it desperately. However, It didn’t budge.

It was locked…

Your heart sank. “M-Miguel, it’s locked!” you whimpered, twisting and pulling at the knob repeatedly in a frenzy.

“Try again. Stay calm for me, baby. Just try again.”

“I am!” you shouted, tears streaming down your face, completely helpless as fear tightened its grip on you. “Try it from your side!” you begged.

You stepped back, letting him attempt the lock from his side. The sounds of his struggle filled the hallway, but the door refused to open.

“Mierda!” He cursed in frustration, hands slamming against the door with a loud bang, making you jump. 

“M-Miguel, what are we going to do? I-I can’t leave you, I can’t…” You sobbed, not wanting to be alone and leave your husband to die at the hands of that thing. 

Instead of an answer, your stomach turned into knots at his response. “It’s here! Fuck!” Miguel stated, harsh bangs and kicks to the door filling the quiet hallway at your husband’s futile attempts to escape. “Get out of here, esposa!” 

A new wave of terror crashed over you. “N-no! I’m not leaving you!” you cried, not wishing to leave and lose him too. You tugged at the door in desperation alongside his assaults upon the relentless door, crying all the while. 

“Y/N!” Miguel’s stern voice cut through your panic, startling youfor a fleeting moment. “I love you, but you have to leave. Understand me!?”

You choked on your sobs, every fiber of your being screaming to stay, but his command left no room for argument.

“Y-yes. I understand,” you whimpered in a trembling voice. “I love you too.”

However, silence fell on the other side of the door.

Your eyes widened  when a loud, sickening thud from behind the door filled your ears. In that moment, your heart shattered into a million pieces.

“Miguel!” you screamed, banging your fists against the wooden surface. Your cries were frantic, pleading for any response, begging for his death not to be real.

A harsh, coppery scent filled your nose, like a punch in the face. Sharp and metallic, it clawed at your every sense as a wet, sticky sensation spreading under your foot made your breath hitch.

Your eyes darted down in alarm. 

Blood.

It pooled from beneath the door, crimson rivulets spreading across the pristine floor, soaking into the soles of your bare feet.

You staggered back, trembling, disbelief gripping your entire being.

“N-no, not you too. Not you too.”

The words spilled from your lips in broken, anguished sobs, a mantra of denial as tears blurred your vision. The reality was too much to bear, too cruel to endure.

You turned and sprinted down the hallway, no longer caring where it led, no longer caring if you’d be lost. 

The sterile glow of the flickering lights stretched endlessly ahead of you, the hem of your blue dress billowing behind you as you ran. Your breath hitched, your sobs growing louder, hair whipping wildly around your tear-streaked face.

And then, your legs gave out.

You collapsed to your knees, chest heaving, despair consuming you.

You sobbed uncontrollably, your trembling hands clutching at the cold floor. The weight of the loss crushed you, leaving nothing but a hollow ache in its wake.

‘First Gabi, my little angel…and now Miguel.’

The thought shattered you. It was too much. Too much pain. Too much emptiness.

Your tears fell harder, your cries echoing down the lifeless corridor.

And then—

A sound.

The soft creak of a door swinging open.

Your head snapped up, your breath hitching and your heart plummeted into your stomach. One of the white doors stood ajar, its perfect surface now marred by a sinister shadow. 

A cold, unnatural wind blew from the pitch-black doorway, tousling your hair and sending a shiver down your spine.

You froze, your body rigid with fear and grief, staring into the darkness.

For a fleeting moment, you found yourself yearning, besseching for whatever had taken Miguel to take you too. To end this nightmare. To reunite you with your family.

But instead of a monster emerging from the void, you saw something else.

You and Miguel…

But not really…

You were sitting in a fancy restaurant with your husband, Miguel, donned in a glamorous dress and him, a pristine tux. This world was nothing you were familiar with, nothing like your checkerboard floors, poodle skirts, and pin-up curls. It was more futuristic to what you were used to, yet familiar all the same. 

The waitress completed taking your order and collected your menus. Innocently, your husband exchanged a glance with her, his eyes lingering a little too long for your liking, his smile too warm and it all riled you up. 

As soon as the waitress left, you couldn’t hold it in anymore. 

“I saw you.” You spat, glaring at him, the tension between the two of you growing thick. “I saw you look at her. You think I didn’t notice?” You asked with a scoff. "Anyone could see how your eyes nearly bulged out of your skull."

Miguel’s charming features shifted to a mix of confusion and frustration. He leaned in close, trying to keep your conversation down. “What are you talking about? I just glanced at her, it was nothing.” 

“No, no, don’t lie to me! You think I’m stupid? T-That I cannot see what is evidently in front of me!?” Your voice rose, attracting the attention of nearby diners. “Well, I assure you, husband, I’m not fucking blind.” You said harshly, spitting his title that was meant for endearment like it was venom in your mouth. 

Miguel steadily placed his glass down, his large hand reaching across the table to hold yours in hopes of quelling the raging storm. “Calm down, please, amor. Let’s not ruin our date.” He whispered hopefully, stroking your knuckles with his thumb. “You’re not seeing things clearly. Nothing happened.” 

The look on your face was of pure rage from something so harmless as a glance. You were lost in your own chaotic thoughts—a belief that he would leave you for someone younger, someone more beautiful. The waiter, the clerk, the neighbor down the street—anyone could take him from you. 

Anyone.

You yanked your hand from his, standing up with a loud squeak of your chair on the floor, gaining the attention of the entire restaurant. “Since you wish to ogle at waitresses, you can eat dinner by yourself. I'll be in the car.” You said, storming out and leaving an embarrassed and pitiful Miguel in your wake…

The door slammed shut with a loud bang, snapping you out of the long-lost memory. “W-who was that? What was that?” you stammered in utter confusion and horror at the person who looked like you but was anything but.

“That… could not have been me,” you thought, but you couldn’t shake the familiarity of the situation.

You could practically feel the red dress you wore upon your body, remember the paranoia and anger, smell the spices wafting through the restaurant, and see the look of pity your husband gave you amidst the storm of your deranged thoughts.

You rose on your shaky legs, the tears you shed now dried upon your cheeks. Your bare feet wandered down the flickering hallway and found yourself wanting answers to the many questions that plagued your mind. 

Suddenly, you heard another door to your left fly open, forcing you into that terrible world once more—one that was far from the perfect world you remembered. 

Or thought you remembered…

You were in the hallway, walking into the kitchen when you heard Miguel on the phone. His voice was lower than usual, speaking to someone in hushed tones. You couldn’t make out the words, but you could hear the familiarity in his voice. His voice was warmer. Softer. He didn’t speak to you like that. 

Not anymore. 

You stormed into the room, catching the last part of the conversation. “Yeah, I’ll pick you up later. Miss you too, sweetheart. Bye.” 

Your mind instantly spiraled: Who was he talking to? Who is “she”? 

Miguel looked back startled at your sudden appearance. “Hey, cariño, you scared me-” 

“Who is she?” Your voice shaking in desperation and anger. “Who the hell were you talking to?” 

He looked at you in perplexion, a flicker of hurt in his eyes at being accused of such a thing. “I was talking to Gabi. She’s at my mother’s for the weekend, remember?” He stated in betrayal. “Why are you constantly accusing me of cheating. I love you, amor. Only you.” 

Miguel tried to convince you, but you didn’t believe him. You couldn’t. 

You never could anymore. 

“No, no, you’re lying to me. You’re having an affair. I know it. You don’t care about me anymore.” You wholeheartedly believed, could even see the loving looks he'd give her—hear the dirty things he would say to her. 

“You are just using our daughter as a coverup!” You shouted at him, stepping up to jab a finger to his chest. “And I would not let you make me look like a fool, Miguel!” 

The memory faded away, throwing you back into the endless hallway, the door swinging closed. 

Your eyes watered up, tears beginning to fill your cheeks. “No, this can’t be true. What is this?” You whimpered, shaking your head. “This is a lie. Miguel and I were happy. He would dance with me, hold me, sing to me with his guitar. No, this isn’t real!” You shouted aloud, more to yourself in hopes of dismissing such riveting tales this nightmare was trying to plague you with. 

“I won’t believe these false tales! I won’t let you lie to me!” You cried out, walking, or more like, stumbling down the hallway. Your body felt weaker, unable to hold yourself up as you walked to the next door that would surely bring you back to that hellish world. 

Like you predicted, dread engulfed you when another white door flung open, pulling your consciousness into the world of false once more. 

You sat on the sofa in the living room, sipping at a mug of coffee. Watching your daughter, Gabriella drew at her mini table, her small hands carefully drawing stick figures with bright red crayons.  “What are you drawing, sweetie?” You asked, noticing her become tensed at your question. 

“I’m…I’m drawing us, Mamá.” You hummed, peering over her shoulder with a smile until you noticed one of the three stick figures with their head tilted, a red line crossed through their face. 

“What is this?” You demanded, pointing a finger at the crossed out figure. “I-Its-” Gabi’s eyes widened as you snatched the paper out of her hands before she could explain. “I-It’s just a…picture, Mamá.”

“A picture? And what is Mama doing here, huh? Being crossed out of your life?” 

“N-No, Mamá…” She began to weep. “You are just sad.” Gabi cried, trying to point out that the red streaks were instead tears, but to you, they were anything but. 

You turned to Miguel, who was watching from the kitchen. “This is what she learns from you, huh!?” You shouted in a voice full of accusation. “Filling her head with ideas of hating her mother?!” 

Miguel hastily raced into the living room, hiis burly arms reaching out to place Gabi behind him, shielding her crying form from you.  “It’s just a child’s drawing. She’s drawing what she is seeing.” Your husband stated. “Please, stop being like this. Please, amor.” 

But you can’t let it go. The image haunts you, filling your mind with fears of what Gabi might be learning from her father, and what she could be thinking of you. 

You storm out of the room, the paper crumpling in your hand, heart pounding with a sense of betrayal.

“No more.” Was the first thing that escaped your cracked lips and scratchy throat. You shook your head from your crumbled position on the floor, hair and blue dress a mess. “Please, don’t show me anymore.” You begged, knowing if you moved, you’d be brought to that horrid place again—feel the overwhelming anger, fear, delusion that raked your body, practically eating you alive—and your family too. 

A faint, yet familiar noise began to echo down the hall. It was quiet and undiscernable, but you were sure it sought to drive you insane. 

You didn’t want to make sense of what you were seeing, because if you made sense of it, it'd only mean they were true. “This isn’t real. I loved my Gabriella and she loved me.” You affirmed, remembering the memories you deemed true. “S-She’d draw me pictures all the time, work with me in the kitchen, a-and we'll play with her dolls together.” You cried, tears breaking free. “This isn’t real. I won’t believe it. I-I won’t.” 

If to prove you wrong, another door bursted open further down the aisle. You instantly felt the pull, but this time, you wouldn’t let it easily take you. 

You clawed at the floor, trying to fight against the force that was tugging you into the dark abyss. However, it only strengthened, seeking to haul you back to that horrid nightmare. The noise only grew louder, yet distant as if becoming angrier at your resistance. “No…please.” You begged, pleading for it not to take you as your fingers soon gave out, drawing you back again… 

One afternoon, the thoughts have become too overbearing. ‘Miguel wants to leave, so I’ll help him.’ Your deranged mind thinks, believing you to be in the right as you heaved another load of his clothes, books, and personal items out onto the porch. 

Only moments after Miguel comes back from work, Gabriella, at his side from school. He races inside in panic and sorrow. “B-Bebè, what is this?” he asks, his deep voice wavering for the first time. 

You glared at him, breathing hard. “If you’re planning on leaving, then go. I already set your things outside, so get out!”

Miguel stares at you, heartbroken, whilst the sobs of Gabi behind his leg fills the hallway of your bedroom. “I-I never planned to leave, mi amor-” 

“Then what is this!?” You exclaimed, throwing his personal journal at his chest, hearing it clatter to the floor. He didn’t even flinch. “You wrote in there that I was deranged, crazy, and needed help—help you cannot provide me. Isn't that right?” You asked with a wicked laugh, head falling back against your shoulders. 

“I don’t think a handsome man like you would want a deranged wife, now do you?” The taunting words being spat at Miguel as he just stood there with Gabriella behind him, taking the full force of the lashes. 

“I tried to stay strong for us—for Gabi—for you, mi amor.” He said once your verbal assault and endless pacing ceased. “But I can’t…not anymore. Not if you don’t seek help yourself, nor face the fact that you need it.” Miguel stated, his voice full of sorrow, but he should have been talking to the wall as nothing he said was reaching you. “If you want me gone so bad, I will-.” 

“Are you still here?” You asked, looking over your shoulder at him, the wildness of your hair in crazed disarray. Your husband met your gaze of pure rage with pity. “Not anymore.” He muttered sadly. “Come on, Gabriella.” Miguel said, ushering your daughter along who weeped all the way out the front door. 

But you knew deep in your core that they would be back. That your sweet husband and daughter would never truly leave you. They would never leave you, no matter how much Miguel said it. 

Like a punch to the gut, you sunk to the floor, sobbing. You didn’t want to believe it, but the more you saw, the more you remembered, and the weaker your body became, like the energy was being drained from your being. 

The familiar tune of the hall was loud, practically driving you mad. “Stop this. Please.” You begged anyone who would listen. Your hands gripped the wall, dragging yourself up onto your feet, your frail legs trembling under your weight. 

A gasp escaped you when suddenly, the lights shut off for a moment, leaving you in blackness before one flickered back on. Your heart skipped a beat at the table that the light shone down upon. “W-What is that?” You whispered so quietly you weren’t sure you said it.

Staggering slowly over, your feet dragging along the floor in an effort to walk on your weakened limbs. You leaned your weight on the table to find only a black, unnamed folder that sat atop it. 

You gulped, not wishing to see what was inside, but was drawn to it, despite yourself. 

Your fingers reached out for it, instantly feeling like you were holding a sack of bricks although the folder seemed almost empty. 

You took a deep breath, trying to bring yourself to open it and when you did, inside, you found two items: 

A singular letter and…

Divorce papers. 

A tear ran down your cheek at the papers. 

Never in your life did you ever believe you’d see them, but here they were, practically burning the skin in your palm just by reading the fine print. 

The first thing you saw are names: Miguel O'Hara and Y/N printed side by side in formal, sterile black text. Beneath them, the words "In the Matter of the Dissolution of Marriage of" are bold, undeniable. It feels distant, like this couldn’t possibly be real—but the sensation in your chest makes it all too clear. 

This is real.

Petition for Dissolution of Marriage. You swallow, and your eyes drift down, taking in the official stamp, the cold lettering, the case number marked by a court you don’t recognize. Every word is unmistakable, every letter sharp, a document that seems foreign yet irrevocably final.

You placed the papers onto the table, unable to look at them any longer. 

The neatly folded piece of letter draws your attention. You opened it slowly, heart sputtering and stomach churning at the pristine ink of your lover’s perfect lettering—a handwriting he swore was chicken scratch, but one you always adored. Your breath catches in your throat as you read the first words. 

"Dear my beloved,"

You hear his voice in your head as you read, soft yet unwavering, as if he’s right beside you, saying every word with sorrow but certainty.

“I hope that by the time you read this, you are in a better place. I wanted to say this face to face, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to. I would be brought to stay, and I know I can’t. Not anymore. 

I am leaving. For Gabriella’s sake. You know as well as I do that things have been falling apart for a long time. And I can’t—we can’t—keep pretending we’re fine.

I’ve tried, Y/N. Goodness, I’ve tried so hard. But the constant fighting, the tension… it’s not good for Gabi. She’s been through too much. It hurts me to hear her cry, hear her fears about you, our marriage. I need to give her the stability she deserves, and right now, I’m not sure I can provide that in this environment. And neither can you. 

I’m taking Gabi with me. I know this will hurt you, and I know you’ll never understand why; I only wish that one day you will. But please, for her, for both of us… get the help you need. You need it more than I can give you.

I will always love you, Y/N. You will always be a part of me. I want you to know that. But I can’t keep watching our family fall apart. Please forgive me.

With all my love,Miguel O’Hara” 

Your chest constricts as you finish reading, the words sinking in like a weight you can’t lift. The paper crinkles in your shaking hands while you stare at the letter, a deep ache in your body that won’t go away. 

The tears come, but they’re different this time. They’re quiet. They don’t scream for help or comfort. They just fall, knowing no one would come to wipe them. 

Beside the letter, divorce papers rest, untouched, cold. 

And for the first time, you are alone. 

You sobbed silently, no sound passing your parted lips as you fell to your knees. Your body shook, feeling cold and empty, the sensation more real than the happy life you believed was true—more real than the blue pastel dress you wore from an era you never lived—and more real than the belief that this was all a dream. 

You were so wrapped up in your grief and sorrow that you didn’t notice the lights shut off, the music now clear enough to identify that filled the hall again and the presence that now accompanied you. 

The bulbs turned back on again, flickering eerily, the air thicker than before. Your gaze was blurry with tears, head pounding like a drum and you found yourself incapable of moving. You remained kneeled, slumped on your heels to look down at the end of the hallway, the table, folder, and note that was in your hand now gone. 

You could feel that you weren’t alone, the familiar prickling on your neck beginning again. You weeped in fear, finally hearing the song that played on repeat, slower and slower, louder and louder. 

It was your song. 

‘You Belong To Me.’ 

The same song that you believed to have been the happiness of your relationship was also the catalyst of eternal ruin. 

“See the pyramids along the Nile…

Watch the sun rise on a tropic isle…

Just remember, darling, all the while…

You belong to me…” 

A loud thud to one of the doors made you yelp and break down into more tears. The song continued slowly, the female voice of Helen becoming horrendously eerie and croaky, almost inhumane. “P-Please stop! I-I understand now! Stop!” 

“See the marketplace in old Algiers…”

“Send me photographs and souvenirs…”

“Just remember, when a dream appears…”

“You belong to me…”

Another bang that sent you cowering, shielding your eyes at the figure you knew was steadily approaching. The music continued to play, burning every lyric into your head and making sure you remembered that night. 

“I’ll be so alone without you…”

“Maybe you’ll be lonesome, too

And blue…

Another voice—a deep, familiar voice sung along, causing the ache in your chest to intensify—the tears to run. “M-Miguel…” You whimpered his name, knowing the song well on his tongue. 

“Fly the ocean in a silver plane…”

“See the jungle when it’s wet with rain…”

“Oh, mi querida, till you’re home again…” 

“You…

Belong…

To…

Me…” 

Your husband’s deep voice vanished along with the song, leaving you wishing to hear it again upon his lips—to hear his words of adoration—to see him again. 

And for once, this nightmare granted your wish…

But with a price…

“Mi amor…” 

“Shh, it's okay. Everything will be okay.” 

“You are okay.” 

Your heart leapt at the whispers of comfort that your husband always gave you. Frantically, your eyes searched the desolate hallway, only finding the doors before finally settling in front of you in the dark end of the hall. 

His words were clear, coming from the blackness and calling out to you. “Mi amor, everything will be okay.” He consoled, footsteps slowly echoing closer. 

Your chest heaved, rising and falling rapidly at being able to see him again. “M-Miguel!” You cried out for him, wanting to feel his touch, be in his arms again and found yourself craving that more than life itself. 

However, your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach at the sight of him. 

All you saw was…

Blood. 

Shrieking, your hand clasped over your mouth, weeping. The white button-up and black slacks, the outfit he wore the last time you saw him still adorned his being, but it was completely ruined. 

His once white shirt was now red, his dark brown slicked hair wet with blood and even worse was the wounds along his body. They were large and horribly fatal, littering his chest. 

You sobbed into your palm, crying as he stepped towards your trembling form, unable to move due to being physically stuck in your spot. He shushed you in that soft tone he always used despite walking towards you like the undead. 

“Shush, Cariño,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper as he advanced, his movements slow and deliberate. “It’s okay; you’ll be okay.” His words, tender but hollow, slipped into your ears but it sounded so wrong, so unlike him in a way. 

“No, no, no!” you wailed, voice cracking under the weight of terror and despair. “What is happening!? W-Who did this to you!?” Each cry came out strangled, desperate, as if voicing your confusion might somehow make sense of this nightmare.

Miguel’s body grew unnaturally still, his gaze sharpening, a twisted smirk spreading across his lips as he tilted his head to one side. “Oh, bebè, isn’t it obvious?” His bloody eyebrow rising in a mock question, daring you to confront the truth he already knew.

And then, before you could respond, his face seemed to explode with anger.

“ISN’T IT!?” 

With a sudden roar, he lunged at you, your scream cut short as his hands found your throat, slamming you onto the cold floor. Your breath vanished instantly under his crushing grip. The impact jarred you, leaving your lungs heaving, begging for air.

You gasped, fingers clawing at his forearm, frantically trying to pry him off but his grip was unyielding, his hands like steel. The veins in his arms bulged underneath his button-up, his fingers digging into the skin of your throat and bruising the sensitive flesh. His face loomed over you, eyes blazing, dark and empty all at once.

“Look at me, Cariño. Look at what you’ve tried so hard to ignore!” He bellowed, each word cutting through you, sinking into your bones. “See it. Feel it, damnitt!” Your husband shouted, slamming you against the floor, feeling the air be knocked from you once more. 

“You couldn’t hold on, could you? Couldn’t keep us together, not for me, not even for Gabi.” His grip tightened, further choking you. Your vision started to blur, spots of darkness creeping in. Tears began to prickle at the edges of your eyes at the thought of death by the hands of no one other than your beloved husband. 

The blood dripping from his hair traced cold lines across your cheek that you could hardly feel against your numb skin. You could only stare up into the shell of your husband and see the inhumane rage, anger and spite that bled off him so tangibly you could practically taste it. 

Your spouse’s amber orbs were devoid of warmth or light, his glowing skin now a lifeless gray, cold to the touch. “This is what you brought into our lives. This is what your love has done.” His tone, grueling and heartless, seeking to twist the already burrowed knife deeper into your gut until you were gone. Miguel leaned down, his face inches from yours, his breath a harsh reminder of everything slipping away.

“Accept it, mi amor. Embrace it, because this is all that’s left.”

Your sight blurred, eyes fluttering closed as those final, chilling words rung through your mind like chiming bells. Fingers loosened from his forearm, dropping to your side, body stilling to leave you encased in a world of blackness. 

‘Accept? How can I accept this?’ 

A thought was breathed like the fluttering of faint fireflies in the darkness. Your consciousness slipping away.

‘Who could possibly accept consequences such as this…?’ 

The inquiry repeated alongside your husband’s words until the abyss consumed you, dragging you under and into the oblivion you could no longer escape.

“Serum R9 has left Patient 1105. Patient 1105 is now conscious.”

An electronic voice announced as your eyes fluttered open. Instantly, the blaring lights from the ceiling seared your vision, forcing you to cower away. ‘Where am I?’ you wondered, unable to survey your surroundings with the glaring bulbs overhead.

The hum of machines engulfed your ears, seeming to be everywhere at once. Each beep and whir further disoriented you. Everything felt distant and detached, like something had chewed at your memories, leaving you clueless.

Then, through the haze, you heard the familiar sound of a record scratching, stuttering through a line from You Belong To Me, a song you knew all too well—“See the… see the… see the…”

Weakly, you glanced down, noticing a white gown adorning your figure, but not remembering how you obtained it nor how you ended up in this bed. Your head ached the more you tried to fill the gaping holes in your memory, but one thing rang true.

“Gabi? M-Miguel?” you called out in a scratchy, hoarse voice that you almost didn’t recognize as your own. Your lips felt horribly cracked, and your legs were stiff from inactivity. ‘I have to get out of here. S-Someone has taken me somehow,’ you assumed, fear rising in your chest.

You tried to sit up, but found yourself physically incapable. ‘What the hell?’ Panic bubbled up inside as you tried again and again, but when your arm started to flail, you felt a tug at your wrist. The metal cuffs cut deep into your skin and clanged against the bed rail.

In horror, your eyes snapped down to see your hands were cuffed to the cold metal of your bed. “What is going on?” you hardly whispered, your dull eyes finding other things attached to your body that you hadn’t noticed before.

An IV drip pricked into your inner elbow with withered tape, wires coming from electrode pads under your gown to attach to your chest whilst an oxygen tube was held up to your nostrils, filling your body with more air than you needed at the moment. 

An ache in your neck made you reach up to touch your nape. There, you felt a lump and upon touching it, a sharp pain shot through your skull that made you further disoriented and terrified.

Your chest began to heave, hyperventilating. ‘What is going on? I-I need to get out of here. I don’t understand what is happening.’ You could only think, weakly tugging at your cuffs, becoming a sobbing mess.

“Patient 1105’s heart rate elevated to 145 beats per minute. Respiration rate above normal limits. Increased agitation detected. Subject is vocalizing distress; emotional levels are unstable.”

Your body jumped at the inhuman form’s sudden voice, coming from somewhere in the room. Instantly, you became rigid with fear.

“Sending for Dr. Owens. Sending for Dr. Owens.”

“What’s happening? Why am I here? What happened to my family?” you could only ask the electronic voice in a strained whimper, seeking answers amidst your confusion and cluelessness. Your vision was shielded by globs of salty tears running down your cold cheeks as you wept.

Almost instantaneously, a door burst open somewhere in your room, startling you. You whimpered in fear, eyes squinting to see the newcomer.

In a white coat, a woman entered. Her dark brown curly hair was tied up in a professional ponytail with a stern look on her ebony face that made you tremble. “W-Who are you?” you tried to ask between crackles in your voice.

The woman barely acknowledged your words. Her attention, behind her glasses, was focused on a screen beside you, fingers flying over the keys as though your questions were mere background noise. Ignoring your weak, desperate gaze, she muttered something under her breath and continued to work.

“Please…” you croaked, throat tightening with desperation. “Where’s Miguel, m-my husband? Where’s my daughter, Gabi? H-How did I get here?”

You couldn’t explain it, but a sudden rage exploded from your being at her indifference. “Give me back my daughter and husband, dammit!” you shouted, your tight voice strained. Thrashing in your bed, you screamed and yelled, the cuffs crashing against the metal bed railing.

“I know you took them! You took them away from me, you bitch! Give them back to me! Give them back!” you bellowed before breaking down into tears, feeling your cheekbones press against the taut skin of your face. Your emotions felt all over the place.

Without looking up, the woman clicked a final command, heaving a sigh. “Patient 1105, I’m Dr. Jessica Owens, and as stated many times before, you agreed to this.”

Your eyebrows quivered, believing you’d heard her wrong. “W-What?” you rasped, your ghostly features scrunching up in confusion.

“Indeed. It was either receiving your normal sentence here or assisting us in a few tests,” the ebony doctor explained. You could only look at her in bewilderment. “And… w-where am I?”

“Obscura Psychiatric Facility,” she replied, her voice emotionless and straightforward. Your dull eyes studied her for a moment, trying to recall your past memories, but it felt impossible. “Why am I here? Why can’t I remember anything? What… tests did I agree to? And where is my family?” you asked, desperate for answers, or else you feared you would lose it.

Dr. Owens stepped up to your bedside, and your body instinctively recoiled from her. “You’ll be surprised how many times I’ve answered these exact questions from you before, Patient 1105,” she muttered, running a calculating eye over you from behind her frames. “But I’ll bite.” The doctor cleared her throat, clasping her hands behind her back.

“Patient 1105, or Y/N, you’ve been in our care for seven years. Upon arrival, you were miserable and depressed, seeking an end to your troubles that the judge took away from you.”

“T-The judge?!” you exclaimed in confusion, needing her to backtrack and explain. However, it seemed Dr. Owens only wished to tell you what she wanted, questions be damned.

“We presented you with the decision to continue your usual routine here at Obscura or to partake in testing of a new drug being administered. You chose the latter.” Dr. Owens said, walking over to a cabinet in the room and retrieving a pair of latex gloves to snap onto her hands. 

“You were cautioned about the addictive effects, memory loss, and life-long dependency on this drug, but there was one thing about this medicine that fascinated you more than anything, causing you to choose it regardless of the consequences.”

“W-What was that?” you asked, watching her return to you and ignore your question like before. The doctor began checking your facial features, under your throat, along your arms, legs, and back, feeling for any abnormalities. “Serum R9 is the drug that is being tested on you, Patient 1105. It is still being researched, but from your results, it’s a paradise, putting you in a dreamscape that you’ve always wanted.”

You listened to Dr. Owens, allowing her to finish her checkup and scribble on a notepad she pulled out from the breast pocket of her lab coat. It felt odd being told about your actions and words despite not remembering them.

Glancing up at her as she wrote, anger bubbled inside of you. “If I’m here, where is my family?” you asked. “Is there a reason I don’t remember agreeing to this? Did you force me to do this?! A-And what is this thing in my neck?! ” You demanded, the lump in your neck tingling once more.

“My husband, Miguel, would never have let me agree to such a thing. He knows I have a daughter—a family to get back to, for fuck’s sake!” you angrily shouted. “And you—lying assholes have made me sell my life to a fucking drug, and now I can’t get back to my family because of you—”

“Patient 1105, your family is dead.”

Your words halted, and you felt like your world had ended. Swallowing thickly, you wetted your cracked lips. Your eyes narrowed, hands curling into fists. “W-What the hell are you talking about?” you bit out, glaring daggers at her. “If you’re lying to me, I promise you when I get out, I-I’ll…” 

Dr. Owens chuckled at your stammered threat, utterly unamused. She shook her head, her curly ponytail moving with the motion. “I'll expect that from a killer like you.” 

Before you could think, you could yourself leaping up, reaching for the collar of Dr. Owens’ coat, and due to her closeness, you grabbed hold. A sudden burst of energy coursed through your being. Pulling her toward you, the chains of your cuffs jiggled with your movements. “Say that again,” you growled, staring directly into her cold eyes that gazed back at you.

“You killed them,” the doctor spat back with indifference. “You stabbed your husband to death and drowned your daughter when he decided to divorce you because of your insanity. I take it you didn’t like the fact they were leaving you.”

“S-stop lying to me!” you shouted, shaking her, not wanting it to be true. “I tell you nothing but the truth, Patient 1105. You’re here because of your actions, and you begged for Serum R9 to escape the despair you’ve brought into your life,” Dr. Owens stated with a glare, pulling away from your tight hold.

Delusions and unchecked rage were what you were known for, and even now, you sought to silence Dr. Owens’ words. You weren’t ready for the truth, despite having already lived it.

Acceptance was a lesson one could never learn without getting hurt in the process. Although you couldn’t remember it, you didn’t want to feel that pain, hurt, or loss ever again, so you ran from acceptance like hell.

You chuckled manically, your laughter growing louder and more deranged. “You lie. You lie! YOU LIE!” you shouted over and over again, pure rage bellowing from your voice. 

In your mind, you saw your husband and daughter at home, calling the police in search of their missing wife and mother. Dr. Owens and the people at this facility were keeping you from your family. It was the only reason—the only truth you saw and was willing to accept.

Suddenly, you snapped, shouting threats at Dr. Owens, trying to break free from your handcuffs, and thrashing about in your bed. Security and more nurses entered the room as Dr. Owens typed away on the screen by your bedside. “You lie, you bitch! You can’t keep me here! I’ll kill you, I promise you, you piece of shit!” you screamed at the top of your lungs. The electronic voice from before filled the room.

“Serum R9 is being administered once more. Sweet dreams, Patient 1105.”

The staff released you as the IV tube was filled with a blue liquid, flowing from a nearby machine into your arm and soon bloodstream. The lump in your neck buzzed to life upon activation and instantly, you became weak and drowsy. 

“W-What are you doing to me? I-I have to get out of here. M-My family is…w-waiting for me,” you said once more, trying to fight the drug.

“You are right,” Through your hazy vision, you could see Dr. Owens resetting the needle on the record player as the song You Belong To Me began to play. Your body became rigid, unable to help but focus on the tune.

“Your family is waiting for you,” the ebony woman added, her voice growing fainter as the music grew louder, until it was the only thing you could hear.

“So don’t keep them waiting any longer,” were the last words you heard before the song drowned out everything, and your eyes closed.

Your world of darkness was full of despair and turmoil. Like the speed of light, every memory you couldn’t recall before came rushing back.

Entering second grade.

Going to prom.

Meeting Miguel.

Getting Married. Having Gabriella. Kissing your husband. Drawing with your daughter. Family dinners. Night cuddles. The fights. The screaming. The crying. The blood. The guilt. The hate. The loss.

The Despair.

It came rushing back so intensely that it was grueling, before vanishing as quickly as it came.

You were left a hollow husk of a person. Your memories shed, leaving only two things behind: pure happiness and a need for your family.

~ I say, Oogum, oogum, boogum, boogum ~Boogum now, baby, you're castin' your spell on me. ~

The jolly tune of Brenton Wood resonated from the record player, your hips swaying to the song while you cooked. Sunlight poured in through the drawn gingham drapes, filling your home with a warm glow that energized everyone inside.

But, in particular, you.

Your eyes occasionally glanced over at the cookbook you had "borrowed" from your and your husband's shared closet—a cookbook from his late mother.

Currently, you had tasked yourself with making a childhood Mexican-Irish breakfast for your husband to celebrate his birthda-

“Wait,” you uttered, coming to a stop. Your eyebrows furrowed, feeling like you’d done this before.

You glanced down at the breakfast you were cooking, a sensation of unease gripping you. You tried to figure out the source of this déjà vu when your thoughts were instantly interrupted by a pair of burly arms enveloping your waist from behind.

Your heart fluttered as a blinding warmth of happiness, adoration, and peace engulfed you. “Good morning, mi amor,” your husband whispered into your ear, his deep voice of love enough to quell even your most chaotic days.

You leaned back into him, accepting his embrace. All previous worries and concerns vanished from thought, and the only thing you could think about was the feeling of how right everything was.

“You okay?” he asked, his hand caressing your stomach through your dress, his touch setting your body ablaze. Completely in love, you nodded, a huge smile on your rosy lips.

“Of course...

Everything is perfect.”

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the finale of Dear, My Beloved. Yes, it was very sad, tragic, and completely different from my other writings—aside from A Fate Worse Than Death—but that was intentional. The vice was Despair, so I went above and beyond. If you almost cried like me, then I did my job, lol. 🤧

To tie up loose ends and make everything clearer: Y/N ended her family due to insanity, abandonment, and mental health struggles after being divorced by Miguel. Serum R9 is the drug administered by Obscura Psychiatric Facility, which places Y/N in a 1950s simulation-like world where everything is "just right."

The scary occurrences were caused by the serum leaving her system and attempting to restore her lost memories. The entity that "kills" Miguel is, in fact, Y/N’s true self.

And yes, I was inspired by the psychological thriller Don’t Worry Darling. It has to be one of my favorite movies! 😍

If there are any loose ends or unanswered questions, feel free to DM me or ask in the comments. I know this was a rather complex, psychological, and angsty one-shot that might leave some readers with questions.

Also, let me know if any additional content warnings need to be added! I know the Gabriella section needed a warning, but please DM me if you think any more should be included.

Overall, I hope you enjoyed it! If you’re excited to see what else my older sister, @powerful-niya, and I have in store for Vicetober (I know, I know 🤧), be sure to like, comment, reblog, and follow! Wishing you all a wonderful day—stay safe! 👋🏾💙🤎😈

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[mimisempai]

You are the calm in my storms

Summary

Crowley has always hated storms and this one is no different. But it could be that an angel in the cottage has decided to change his beloved demon's mood...

Notes

Flufftober Prompt : Rainy day

On Ao3

Rating G -  1014 words

Crowley had just finished attaching the last flower-laden branch of the rosebush to the stake that would keep it from breaking under its weight when he saw the first drop of rain fall on a leaf. He looked up at the grey, cloudy sky and sighed as the wind grew stronger, causing the boards of the garden shed not far from him to creak.

He knew the storm was coming, but had hoped until the last moment that it would pass them by.

He hated storms. 

He hated them for many reasons, but the most important was that since the beginning of time, storms had been God's favourite way of showing his power, and storms were never a good omen.

He knew this storm was no such thing, but that didn't stop him from hating it, and his mood was in tune with the weather. Not to mention the fact that his precious plantations were unlikely to escape unscathed.

He glanced apologetically at his rose bushes growing on the hollyhocks along the side of the cottage, as if he were responsible for the weather.

As the rain grew heavier, he gathered up his gardening tools and stowed everything away in the shed before heading out onto the porch of the cottage.

Even Aziraphale's seasonal decorations of pumpkins and corncobs failed to make him smile, and he sighed as he brushed back his damp hair before opening the cottage door.

Feeling the dampness quickly settling in, he sighed again as he stepped through the door before taking off his jacket to hang it on the coat rack.

"Angel, I -"

The demon stopped dead in his tracks as the contrast between outside and inside hit him head on.

Warmth.

There was no other word to describe his first impression.

An incredible warmth.

The wood crackled in the fireplace, its glow casting a soft light into the living room.

The round table was set, beautifully decorated in the colours of autumn, and a candelabra was lit in the centre, adding to the gentle warmth.

Finally, the demon noticed the scent of wine, orange, cinnamon and star anise wafting through the room, enhancing the sense of comfort that had begun to fill him as soon as he arrived. 

Crowley called softly, still confused, "Angel?"

"Oh, there you are, I didn't hear you." 

Aziraphale had appeared, coming out of the kitchen with a steaming mug in each hand. He looked towards the window and nodded, "I see, the storm is definitely here now."

Crowley approached and absently took one of the mugs Aziraphale was handing him and asked, "Angel, what's all this? Is it for some special occasion I've forgotten?"

The angel shook his head.

"Then why?"

Aziraphale grabbed the demon's hand and pulled him towards the couch in front of the softly crackling fire, saying quietly, "Because I know you don't like storms."

"But how do you... well, I mean, I've never mentioned it and..."

Aziraphale made him sit down and then came to sit beside him before placing his hand on Crowley's knee as he replied, "After all these years, Crowley, there are still a few things I've been able to observe, don't you think? Like the fact that you get a little crankier and grumpier than usual when there's weather like this."

Crowley swallowed slightly. It went without saying that there was little they didn't know about each other, but that didn't stop him from feeling a little naked at being exposed yet again. 

He brought the mug of fragrant mulled wine to his face and, after inhaling the soothing scent, took a sip, imitated by the angel, before setting the mug down on the coffee table.

He said with a slight hesitation, "And so, all this..." he swept an arm around them, pointing to the fire, the table, the mulled wine, and continued, "It's because of the storm..."

Aziraphale put down his mug in turn and, taking Crowley's hand, kissed it gently on the palm before replying, "It's to make you forget that there is a storm outside."

" I see. " 

The demon took another sip of his mulled wine before asking

now with a slight playful gleam in his eye, "Oh, but it's going to take more than a warm atmosphere and some mulled wine to do that, so how are you going to make me forget, Angel?"

Aziraphale, the playful gleam in his eyes mirroring Crowley's, did not answer, but pulled the demon against him until he was astride him and did not wait to capture his lips in a long, deep kiss. 

Not to be outdone, Crowley wrapped his arms around the angel's neck and pressed in closer, the kiss lingering until they were forced to separate to catch their breath.

Crowley stepped back a little and, licking his lips, said in a slightly breathless voice, "I think it's working, Angel. I feel much better."

"If you can still talk coherently, it's clearly not good enough."

Aziraphale cupped the demon's face in his hands and pulled him to his face, capturing his lips again in another passionate kiss, the heat of which was no match for the flames in the fireplace.

Their embrace continued and, much later, as they lay on the sofa, Crowley sprawled over Aziraphale, both of them wrapped in a warm blanket, the demon said softly, "Thank you for doing this for me, Angel.

Aziraphale raised his hand and brushed back a lock of hair that had fallen across the demon's forehead before saying softly, "For you, always, my beloved."

The demon let out a moan of contentment that almost sounded like a purr, leaning his cheek into the angel's hand before snuggling up against him, his face in the hollow of his neck as the angel pulled back the blanket that had slipped over them.

In this cosy cocoon of softness and warmth, Crowley was now definitely oblivious to the storm raging outside.

Aziraphale gently stroked Crowley's hair, a sweet smile on his lips, secretly happy to have been able to help the demon he loved more than anything.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

South Downs cottage series : here

Ineffable fan fictions Masterpost : here

[volivolition]

hey so we've been meaning to ask you, which brushes do you use on CSP? the new years event thing they're holding gives out clippy and iirc you said your main brush costed some and we finally like. Have some to spend lmao

-Siam

hello Siam!! :D oooh yes login bonus time!! i have a singular main brush i use and swear by, which is "softBrush♦B8pencil♦DryInk" [10 Clippy] (Content ID: 1944219) aka "SmoooZZz2" <33 it's soft and wispy and a bit textured and it blends very prettily, i've been using it for a long time! (issues are that it's semi-tranparent, so using it for line art can be a bit of a pain lmao but since most of my art is just colored sketches i can get away with it)

a common thread you'll notice with my brushes is that 1) I LOVE SOFT BRUSHES!! and 2) I LOVE PEN PRESSURE!! so my brushes are soft and/or have a good taper to line widths.

some of my others: - "SOIPEN" [Free] (Content ID: 1778407) used to be my old main go-to, real solid brush, but still soft! good for proper lineart, which i havent done in ages hgjkg - "Yokan brushes (羊羹ブラシ)" [30 Clippy] (Content ID: 1944592) or as i renamed it "softie brush" (it used to just be the japanese characters) is what i use for blush and shading. it's really soft, but still has a harder edge unlike an airbrush, which i like! - "SU Cream Pencil" [Free] (Content ID: 1761353) is a classic, such good textures, really solid brush with a good taper!! :3 - i think Turnip Pen is a CSP default, it came free with your xbox /ref, i basically only use this when i need to color something solidly. (i also have a duplicate one with the no anti-aliasing setting. for homestuck purposes. :3) - Rough 6B Pencil is GONE FOREVER APPARENTLY?? i've looked up the content id and there is nothing hgkjg, so sad </3

other things i recommend: - "[UP] R Colour Gradient Set (Hair/Eyes)" [20 Clippy] (Content ID: 1945188) (and their other ones, if you just go check out the creator HamR, i have White and Pink but the Blonde/Purple/Green sets are new to me, i might get them lmao hgklj) are GODSENDS i LOVE messing with these for gradient maps (let me know if y'all need gradient map advice or anything hjglk), they make colors good :3 - "close and fill tool without gaps" [Free] (Content ID: 1759448) is just like. praise be ice cream fill tool, we all love ice cream fill tool!! please get this if you don't have it already, it's really helpful. you just make a layer beneath your line art, lasso your line art as messily as you want, and it'll fill it in for you, it's WILD man hglk - "BOKE brushes" [Free] (Content ID: 1610288) are really pretty for backgrounds if you fiddle with add (glow) and opacity!! - "A brush set that draws clouds" [Free] (Content ID: 1723992) is really good, i love using this for skies <3 this creator (27pt) has a lot of other good assets too! :D

i think that's about it!! clippy does expire eventually, but not for a while! you'll probably find some cool assets to spend it on before then :D in general i think a lot of the free assets are really good, but extra clippy is always nice to have!! i hope this helps, thank you for asking my beloveds!! :] <333 <222

[nanakiwii]

STARDEW VALLEY HANNIGRAM???

What the actual-?!

Really????

The voices won.

I regret nothing.

---------

Prison was boring.

Being locked up, as Hannibal expected, was all about routine and schedule. You wake up, eat, shower and shit when they tell you to. Good behavior was the key to bring back some of his old life pleasures: books and music, for example, were some of those achievements he earned.

But, Hannibal sensed he still needed something, or, someone to fill this void he called existence. After three years of isolation and intense silence, Hannibal couldn't help but to dig in every interaction he shared with his beloved.

In the time while they were apart, Will - somehow - managed to get engaged and marry a faceless woman and, as much as it hurt Hannibal, he couldn't deny he was happy to see Will as desperate as himself to try to easy the pain of their distance.

The lack of human contact didn't do great to his temperament and Hannibal knew we was becoming more "sassy" as days passed. He was bored. The bliss of the attention he received by the media was gone for ages. He found every assumption of his "diagnose" wrong and very dumb. "If this is the proof of human brightness, then we're destined to live in darkness" he thought.

It was this boredom that made him poke Alana Bloom until he discovered a way to taunt Will and to end his sickening loneliness.

Stardew Valley.

Apparently, it was farming game he could play with friends and family. And who was Will if not a friend and part of his family? Well, Hannibal guessed he had to find a way to play this exquisite video game with his precious Will.

---------

~ Inspired by this horrendous comic I drew on the printscreen brush tool a long time ago while I was sleep deprived and very very bored.

Text:

Will: "What is this game about?"

Hannibal: "I suppose it's a farm game, Will."

Will: "And, why you wanna play with me?"

Hannibal: "Well, Alana commented about it, and I'm curious."

Will: "I don't believe you."

Hannibal: "Come on, Will. I'm locked and bored. Help me out."

Will: "Fine."

Later...

Will *behind a computer screen*: "I still don't know how you manage to have those things."

Hannibal *also behind a computer screen*: "I'm a very behaved prisoner."

Will: "..."

Will: "No, look, let's just play."

[Stardew Valley home screen]

Hannibal: "Soo much hair options."

Will: "Shut up."

Hannibal: "What do I put on 'favorite thing?'"

Hannibal: "Such a hard question!"

Will: "I wrote 'dogs'"

Hannibal: "Yeah, I suppose you did."

Will: "You want me to ask, don't you?"

Hannibal: "Ask what?"

Will: "What did you write?"

Hannibal: "Oh, hoho... You would be surprised."

Will: "If you say 'pork' I'll kill you."

Hannibal: "Then, you better pick a knife."

Will: "Fuck you and your cannibal jokes, Hannibal!"

Hannibal: "Me and my jokes."

[Hannibal's character building screen:

Name: Hannibal M.D

Farm Name: Hospital

Favorite Thing: Will Graham ]

End.

AGAIN: SORRY ABOUT THE MAJOR GRAMMAR AND ENGLISH ERRORS. I WAS HALF ASLEEP HALF ALIVE AND I NEEDED SOME CRACK FIC TO KEEP GOING!

I wanted to post it somewhere because I keep laughing alone about what I made and wanted to share with other people.

The art is shit, but someday I'll make something better (I probably won't. Will I?)

[creaturing-your-faves]

(If you're comfortable with this) could you make a tutorial on how you make your creations??? It'd okay if not, thank you for making them :D

WAA i can try!! baby's first tutorial ft. this guy

🐾 first, a picture of your blorbo

i use waifu2x to up the quality, not always neccessary but it makes everything a bit easier and prettier. i use firealpaca to edit but you can use whatever you like, im not your mom

🐾 probably get a reference

yeah i dont always do this. but you should! i should! so google whatever creature you want to turn blorbo into and maybe scroll for a bit to get a feel for what they look like :3

try to find one at a similar angle to your blorbo picture and paste it/open as a layer. look this is close enough ↓

🐾 onto the actual editing! human ear surgery

in case you prefer just one pair of ears. you have to understand the style so you can imitate it.... so look at their hair, maybe theres more colors or gradients than you can see at a glance or something ! i colorpick a bunch of them and put them over their ears, then blend them together with a low opacity watercolor brush

ALSO, notice the.. lighter glowy aura thing around his ear in the og? i try to imitate details like that too, used watercolor for this again

now maybe you wanna make it look like theres something covering that spot, since theres kinda nothing there now. soo if that looks weird to you, (open a new layer and) put some hair over it. i cant tell u how to imitate Any style so just. study it and keep trying

with enstars here the lines are pretty soft, so i go over it with watercolor brush after doing the general shape. with a higher opacity you could probably just use a softer brush from the start, i just like starting with the basic pen

🐾 the lines!!!

nowww i lower the blorbos opacity to around 50%, bring the reference somewhere i can see and just kinda... start sketching. lot of redrawing and transform tooling here sometimes

TIPS 1. you can clean the lines up at the end so dont stress

2. think of your blorbos new ears as a real tangible part of their body and how they fit on their head since you dont wanna make it look too flat !

3. and for the placement i always end up at roughly one human ear length above their og ears if that makes sense. tried to visualize it

as for inner ear fluffs phew i dont know either. draw a circle and start from there? maybe there are actual animal ears in blorbo artstyle out there you could reference

🐾 coloring 🏳️‍🌈

finally some progress huh. i color the lines in a contrasting color first so i see the lines properly and dont miss anything, then fill it in with the actual color :3 OH and for gradients i just use the airbrush at the ear tips or sides

noww shading! new layer, basic pen brush and try to follow the shapes in the og art. it's best if you pick the colors from the actual picture!!! take notes mentally and just do your best i dont know how to explain this more

taking this as an example, the shading is mostly in pretty simple wider areas, so not a lot of seperate strands in there. and its again pretty soft around the edges of shades and highlights, so i'll go over it with my beloved watercolor. keep things like that in mind so the creaturing blends in well :3

if you like more detail better you can still go with that. or less detail on a complex artstyle. the world is your oyster

🐾 and the rest

what else could there be???? making the lineart more cohesive for example ★ oftentimes it's not one solid color, thicker or thinner than yours, things like that.

for things like piercings or fangs you can just draw them on top i believe in you <3 if its like an intricate earring use the lasso? magic wand? the one that lets you select an area to copy and move on top of your ear layers

+ remember details like shadows, if you put a tail on top of say blorbos leg there's gonna be a shadow under it! put a layer under the tail ones and freehand draw the shadow, OR copy the tail layer, put the copy under the og one and change color/opacity until it fits

[see-arcane]

Do you have any tips on digitally coloring art that you have sketched traditionally?

Oof, I'm still extremely novice if I'm being honest. I won't call them tips, but a few things I like to do when adding color lately:

Playing with color-tinted lighting. By which I mean first coloring everything in as it'd be in plain white lighting, then going back in with decreased opacity paint bucket tool to tinker with a shade to match the actual light source. I've used moonlight in a lot of my Dracula stuff, usually with a non-black night backdrop, whether it's subtle:

Or rich:

that extra hue gives things a more ~dramatic~ lens than having everything starkly base-colored, I think.

Next, picking and playing with a specific palette. Black-red-white is a favorite for the peak edgy horror-gothic stuff

but really I just like latching onto A Color and hopping around its gradients to fill a piece in. One of my favorites is '80's Fantasy Purple':

Speaking of fantasy! I am occasionally a sucker for lots of pretty pretty glitter and sheer for extra dreamy/pulp cover looks

And with the flimsier stuff above ^^^ I just play around with opacity until I'm happy with the fill-in, followed by going over the edges with the blur tool until it looks nice and gauzy

Back to lighting, one of my most beloved (and admittedly bare bones) tricks is using a combo of one 0% Hardness blotch of color--read: a very fuzzy-hazy spot--followed by one 100% Hardness spot--read: a normal paint spot--to create the illusion of extremely intense glowing. That could be for something as simple as glowing eyes...

(Her eyes and the moon were done the same way, hazy purple spot first, smaller sharper white spot on top ^^^)

...or doing both of these, placed on top of a radiating gradient effect. Such as:

(One of my favorite color combos is 'bloody sunset' when the sun goes down extra golden molten and makes the sky look like it's burning. Deep yellow + an intense red-to-black gradient = Most Dramatic Lighting Possible)

And, very last note, which you can probably spy above--fog! Love me some billowy theatrical fog! Again, it's just an opacity trick and making sure the paintbrush is on its lowest hardness setting before whirling the brush around into lumps.

That's about all I can think of off the top of my head for now

[itsleyally]

Entry#1: Love at First Sketch

Like a person would fall instantly for someone in just one glance, art had already bewitched me from the moment I experienced drawing for the first time. 

It all started in the past, I remember watching my mom work on beautiful illustrations. She was so elegant at doing her drawings that it kept my childhood self guessing how she even did those with perfection. As a nosy youngster, I was also curious enough to be meddling with her things when she was out of sight. I tried to mimic how my mom would hold one of her pencils and copy her facial expressions, mocking her so innocently. I then began moving my hand through the air, as if I were making colorful strokes on an imaginary canvas. After all, I’d been told not to waste paper, so what else could I do?

I did get caught in the end. But thankfully, my mom didn't mind at all. Instead, she found it funny and charming at the same time and thought that her daughter would also want to follow what she loves to do. By then, she had already prepared a sketchpad for me, and looking at it was sure a sparkling sight. From that moment on, I was completely hooked. The feel of the pages turning, the endless possibilities of what I could create—It was like a connection meant to be. It did feel that way when I looked at its number of blank pages, having to claim the sketchpad all to myself. And that specific day marked the beginning of my love affair with drawing. Holding that pencil in my small, inexperienced hands felt like a magic wand when I scribbled on the first page. And guess what? My very first drawing made me so proud at the time! Even though looking at it now seems awful, I knew my young self was totally in love with it. 

Ballerina: My first ever sketch as a child

As the years passed, my love and dedication for drawing continuously developed and became stronger. I grew up filled with lots of sketchpads in my room, each one contained with memories and improvements from the previous one.  My mom who had always been so supportive even put up a mini art gallery in the house, displaying our favorite artworks from each past year as a beautiful reminder of our artistic accomplishments together. 

Our Art Gallery & my other most beloved artworks

The onset of the pandemic, however, led to a dramatic shift in my creative journey. With the world suddenly put on hold for a few years, those times I was trapped indoors with my sketchpads and art supplies surrounding me, I found myself with an abundance of time to explore my craft. While I still enjoyed traditional drawing, I started exploring digital art as a new creative outlet. Seeing the stunning work of digital artists on social media inspired me to try it out for myself. At first, it was intimidating—the endless number of tools was overwhelming. But before long, I also became hooked on it. The ability to undo and experiment with different tools, brushes, and colors at the touch of a button was liberating and I came to love it even more when I got to use a stylus and a drawing tablet.

Some of my digital art creations

Looking back, I never thought art would lead me to be the person I am today. From the first sketch I made as a child to the digital masterpieces I am now creating, my love for drawing has only grown stronger since the moment I picked up my first pencil. The skills and techniques I’ve developed over the years have not only been a source of personal fulfillment but have also opened up new opportunities for me to pursue a career. As a college student studying in the field of Multimedia Arts, I am grateful to have the chance to continue exploring my passion and share my art with others. Whether it be traditional or digital art, I know that drawing will always be a part of me, shaping my life and creative expression in countless ways. 

[lisacatherwood]

Sisters

In the middle light and the gathering dust there was another one. Through the weary fears and the aches and pains it sat. This one, was one too many, and her sister reached out to her as she saw the shine in her hand and heard the catch in her breath.

All day they had worked together, lifting and clearing up mess in the wake of the devastation - this needed done, It had all been put off for far too long.

There had been a visceral ripping as he tore away leaving pain and chaos and dread.

Strong families shaken to their core, unable to come to terms. Ripped apart by the actions of one man in peacetime.

In the void she had built again, a new life a new home. The days had started dark but lightened and strengthened as her brushes swept, sweet colour arrived with spring in the third year and she decided it was time.

He had left everything ever given to him. In his wake, hopes and books, faith and footwear, dreams and paraphernalia all lying together, the wreckage at the tideline of his final retreat.

As women do they had appointed a day, the mess needs addressed, so in the morning they rolled up their sleeves and rolled away the doors. The darkness rose and tumbled out towards them making her cry but together they began.

The sediment of a life lifted with care, gathered, dusted, placed for transit, put to rest. A rhythm developed, as women do, their hearts sang softly together as they shared a smile or a sigh as the order was made.

These were the things from the life of a man - saws and crowbars, a new chainsaw blade, lead battleships and kerplunk, laser sight, ladders, a yacht and some kites, socket set and a sander, the tools and toys of a boy and a man and everywhere were screws.

In every box and packet they found them, bright screws and nails, all new. A worthless horde, filling spaces, gathering dust. It became a thing, as they gathered and sorted, tiny shiny things, not pointless but useless without anchor or purpose.

The Sun was setting as they swept the last, and there it was, a loose screw in the detritus about to be swept into the bin. As she stood with it in her hand the sisters looked at each other, grimy, with cobwebs in their hair. Golden light shining into the farthest corners of the now neat and tidy space. There was a moment. One muttered about having a screw loose and the last of the darkness was banished as they laughed together, it wasn't even funny but the magic happened and it was over.

They locked the door and went together towards the light.

***

I wrote this for my sister in April 2018 because we had lived this day, she helped me through a terrible time with actions and words she was amazing and I was so grateful I didn’t have enough words I still don’t.

In October the same year I got out of hospital after a very bad ME Flare I was bed bound and very scared she resentfully made me food very late that day and when I asked what was wrong she screeched that it was ‘all about you again’ I tried to console to understand to apologise to explain. She said she was a terrible sister I said she wasn’t and I meant it. I was so unwell it was a living horror. She left. I didn’t see her again. She came in every six months but she was a bitter stranger. Strong armed into ‘attending’ by our Mum.

Nothing in my life ever hurt as much.

It’s 7 years on, I was bed bound for a few months and have been housebound since, struggling with this awful illness and I have seen her maybe 4 times a year. My beloved Sister who I saw every week and to whom lines of communication were always open, sharing all our lives in texts, books, music, tv - family news and stories has gone and I don’t know why. She shattered me and our family and had it continue for all of us through lockdown.

When I once asked, she doesn’t want to talk about it.

[clumsynoobsstuff]

toxic ll

chapter 2:

warning :smut

As Y/n ran back and forth, her steps echoed through the room. The heavy click of the locktrapping her inside. With each passing moment, the suffocating weight of loneliness pressed against her chest. It was time to feed Kiwi, her only solace.

The lock finally clicked open, and the heavy door creaked as it swung inward.  Y/n's eyes widened ias she saw Katsuki standing there, their baby Kiwi cradled gently in his arms.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as their eyes met, the intensity of his fiery red gaze locking with her own.

Without a word, Katsuki stepped forward, his expression unreadable. As he approached, Y/n's heart pounded in her chest, a mixture of fear and longing coursing through her veins.

She reached out a trembling hand towards him, her fingers brushing against his rough, calloused skin

In that  moment, everything else faded away—the cold, the loneliness, the despair.

All that mattered was this fragile connection between them, their shared love for their tiny, precious Kiwi.

Tears welled up in Y/n's eyes as she looked at Katsuki, silently pleading for understanding, for forgiveness, for a chance to start anew.

And in that silent,as they stood there locked in each other's gaze, Y/n dared to hope that maybe, just maybe, they could find their way back to each other.

"Feed my brat," Katsuki's voice sliced through the air like ice.

His gaze bore into Y/n, devoid of any warmth or affection. To him, she was nothing more than a tool, a necessary vessel for their child's sustenance.

With a heavy heart, Y/n cradled Kiwi in her arms, the weight of Katsuki's words settling like a leaden burden on her shoulders. She was no longer his beloved bride, but merely a means to an end, a duty-bound mother to their child.

Without a word, Y/n nodded numbly, her hands shaking as she took Kiwi from Katsuki's arms. She forced a smile, though it felt more like a grimace, as she cradled their child close to her chest. As she prepared to feed Kiwi,

In that moment, as she looked at Katsuki, she saw no trace of the love.

It was as if he refused to acknowledge that Kiwi was not just his child, but theirs.

She longed to scream, to make him see that Kiwi was not just his "brat," but their precious baby,But the words caught in her throat, suffocated by the weight of his dismissiveness.

Y/n felt the weight of Katsuki's gaze like a heavy blanket, suffocating her as she settled onto the bed, preparing to feed their baby Kiwi.

She couldn't help but notice the distance between them, both physically and emotionally.

As she cradled their child close to her chest, she could feel Katsuki's eyes on her, but it was not a gaze filled with love or tenderness—it was a look of suspicion and guardedness.

With each passing moment, It was as if Katsuki was afraid she would disappear with their son, hide him away from him once more.

The memory of their past struggles loomed over them .

Y/n couldn't bring herself to meet Katsuki's gaze, the weight of his distrust heavy on her shoulders.

She knew she had hurt him in the past, had made choices that had driven a wedge between them.

But now, as she sat there with their baby in her arms, all she wanted was to bridge that gap, to show him that she was here, that she would never take their child away from him.

But Katsuki's eyes never wavered, his laptop screen casting a harsh glow on his features.

It was as if he was building a wall between them, his fear and mistrust palpable in the air.

Y/n longed to reach out to him, to make him see that she was here to stay, that she would never take their son away from him.

But in that moment, as she looked at Katsuki, she knew that their road to healing would be long and arduous.

The scars of their past mistakes ran deep, and the wounds between them had yet to fully heal.

  Y/n's heart sank as she watched Katsuki on the couch, his eyes flickering between their baby Kiwi and the glow of his laptop screen.

his gaze lingering on Kiwi, a mix of protectiveness and unease.

Katsuki's eyes darted back and forth, his attention divided between Kiwi and the screen.

Y/n's heart warmed as she watched Kiwi on the bed, his tiny hands and legs kicking excitedly in anticipation of the milk he was about to receive.

Despite the tension in the room, Kiwi's infectious joy brought a smile to her face.

She leaned over, her fingers gently brushing against Kiwi's cheek, feeling the softness of his skin beneath her touch.

His bright red eyes met hers, sparkling with happiness and innocence. It was as if he knew that he was about to be fed, his joyful movements a dance of anticipation.

Y/n couldn't help but chuckle softly at his excitement, her heart swelling with love for her precious child.

Despite the doubts and fears that lingered between her and Katsuki, in this moment, all that mattered was the pure, unbridled joy of their baby.

Y/n's smile widened, the warmth of maternal love washing over her. She whispered soothing words to him, her voice a gentle melody in the quiet room. Kiwi responded with coos and gurgles, his happiness contagious.

As She about to  lowerthe strap of her black knee-length dress.

Y/n's heart raced as she felt Katsuki's gaze on her, a mix of tension and discomfort filling the air. With a deep breath, she mustered the courage to meet his eyes, her own gaze .

"Can I have some privacy?" she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper. The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken emotions.

"Oh, asking for privacy now, are we?" Katsuki's voice dripped with scorn, his eyes narrowing with a cruel edge.

"Because, you know, I haven't seen everything already. What's left to hide, huh?"

The words cut through Y/n like a knife. She felt a surge of anger rise within her, but she swallowed it down, trying to maintain her composure

"I just want some space" Y/n retorted, her voice tinged with defiance despite the humiliation burning in her chest.

"Space? From your loving husband?" he sneered, the words hitting Y/n like a slap in the face.

Y/n clenched her jaw, but she was around Kiwi as she fought to keep her emotions in check. She refused to let Katsuki see how much his words wounded her.

she glanced over at Katsuki, his eyes still fixed on his laptop screen, unmoving.

It was clear he had no intention of leaving, his mistrust was clear in room.

With a resigned sigh, Y/n finally lowered the strap of her black knee-length dress, her fingers trembling slightly.

She could feel Katsuki's gaze burning into her, the weight of distrust.

Summoning every ounce of courage she had left, Y/n pushed aside her discomfort and hesitantly reached for the neckline of her dress.

Slowly she pushed one side of her dress down, exposing her breast as she prepared to feed Kiwi.

The room fell silent as Y/n focused on her task, She cradled Kiwi close to her, guiding him to her breast as he eagerly latched on.

Y/n tried to block out everything else, focusing solely on the precious moment with her baby.

With each gentle suckle, Kiwi's contented murmurs filled the room, a soothing melody to her ears.

Y/n couldn't help but smile as she looked down at their child, his tiny hand resting against her chest.

In that moment, as she held Kiwi close,  Despite Katsuki's doubts and mockery, she was here, fulfilling her role as a mother.

And as she stole a glance at Katsuki, she saw his eyes on her and then back to his laptop screen .

As Kiwi finally drifted off to sleep, his tiny lips still molded in the shape of Y/n's nipple, she gently removed her breast from his mouth with a soft pop sound. The room was filled with a peaceful quiet.

Y/n's heart swelled with a mixture of love and exhaustion as she gazed down at her sleeping baby. His little face was angelic in repose, the gentle rise and fall of his chest a soothing rhythm.

With a tender touch, she traced her finger along Kiwi's chubby cheek, marveling at the perfection of this tiny being they had brought into the world.

His lips still held the shape of her nipple, a gentle reminder of the nourishment and comfort she had provided.

as she was about to graze her hand over Kiwi's blonde fuzzy hair, savoring the tender moment of his peaceful sleep.

But before her fingers could touch his soft locks, she felt a sudden force yank her up, away from their baby.

Startled, Y/n gasped as Katsuki pulled her away from Kiwi with a roughness that made her stumble.

She could feel the heat of his anger radiating off him, his grip on her arm tight and unforgiving.

"What do you think you're doing?" Katsuki's voice was a low growl, his eyes blazing with fury as he glared down at her.Y/n's heart raced with a mix of fear and confusion.

"I-I was just... I wanted to..." she stammered, struggling to find the words as she tried to pull away from his grasp.

"You're not fit to be around him."Tears welled up in Y/n's eyes as she looked up at Katsuki, her voice trembling with emotion.

"And you lost any right to him the moment you tried to take his right to have a father "

As Katsuki continued to hold her in his tight grip, Y/n's heart ached for Kiwi, who was now stirring from his sleep, disturbed by the commotion.

She longed to reach out to him, to comfort him and protect him from the tension between his parents.

But in that moment, as she looked into Katsuki's eyes, all she saw was anger and betrayal.

And as he yanked her away from their baby once more.

Y/n's heart raced with panic as Katsuki dragged her away from the room where Kiwi slept peacefully, his grip unyielding as he led her to another room.

She stumbled along, trying to break free, but his strength was overpowering

Before she could protest, Katsuki shoved her into the room and slammed the door shut behind them, the loud thud echoing in the small space.

As Katsuki looked at her, his gaze traveled down the length of Y/n's body,  Her long hair fell in waves, cascading down her waist in a dark, silky cascade.

The black slick dress she wore hung loosely on her petite frame, the fabric draping over her curves in a tantalizing manner.

Her breath came in shallow gasps, her chest heaving up and down with each beat of her heart.

The dress accentuated her curves, the fabric molding against her body in all the right places.

Katsuki's eyes were drawn to the cleavage line that peeked out from the neckline, a subtle hint of the softness hidden beneath.

As Katsuki stood there, his gaze lingering on Y/n's figure, he couldn't shake the memories that flooded his mind. He reminded himself of how she had clung to IcyHot.

How could she keep such a life-altering secret from him?

He remembered the day he found out, the shock and disbelief that coursed through him like a bolt of lightning.

The realization that she had kept their child hidden from him, denied him the chance to be a father from the start, filled him with a sense of betrayal and anger that he couldn't shake.Katsuki clenched his fists at his sides, his jaw tightening with pent-up frustration

. The memory of her deceit and the pain it had caused him made him resent her even more.

Y/n found herself trapped against the wall, Katsuki's imposing figure looming over her."Enough," he growled, his voice low and dangerous

As Katsuki cornered Y/n against the wall, his  figure towered over her, his muscular physique casting a daunting shadow over her timid one.

His grey sweatpants hugged his powerful legs, the fabric stretched taut over his defined muscles.

Above, a black sleeveless top clung to his broad chest, the ripple of his well-defined torso.

Every movement he made seems a testament to the strength and control he held over his own body.

The veins in his arms bulged with restrained power, a silent warning of the force he possess.

Katsuki's face was a portrait of intensity, his sharp features accentuated by the crimson red of his eyes that blazed with anger and frustration.

His jaw was clenched , the muscles working beneath the surface as he glared down at Y/n.

Despite the harshness of his expression, there was a raw beauty to Katsuki's features.

His sharp jawline and  his piercing gaze.

Katsuki's presence was overwhelming,He exuded confidence and authority, a man who was used to being in control.

Despite the fear he instilled in Y/n, there was something undeniably magnetic about Katsuki.

His raw power  drew her in, even as she struggled against the fear and uncertainty that he evoked.

In that moment, as he stood before her, his muscled form towering over her tiny figure, Y/n couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. Fear, yes, but also a strange fascination.

Y/n's breath caught in her throat as she felt the weight of his anger bearing down on her.

She tried to speak, to reason with him, but fear and desperation rendered her speechless.

"What do you want from me?" she finally managed to whisper, her voice barely above a trembling breath.

Katsuki's eyes bore into hers, cold and unforgiving. "I want you to stay away from my brat," he spat, his words like daggers.

"But he's our son," Y/n pleaded, her voice cracking with emotion.

"he is my son"

his face contorted with rage.

"I made mistakes, but I'm trying to make things right."

," Y/n's voice trembled with frustration and anger, her words laced with bitterness. "You're now taking Kiwi's right to have a mother."

The moment the words left her lips, she could see the anger boiling beneath Katsuki's surface. His eyes flashed with rage, and before she could react, he grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back against the wall.

Y/n cried out in pain as Katsuki's grip tightened, his fingers digging into her scalp. She could feel the heat of his anger radiating off him, his breath hot against her face.

"Don't you dare," Katsuki's voice was a low growl, his eyes blazing with fury. "Don't you dare talk about my son like that."

Y/n winced as the pain shot through her, but she refused to back down. "He deserves to have both parents," she insisted, her voice trembling but defiant.

"why you didn't thought this when you kept you pregnancy hidden from me you whore"

Katsuki's grip on her hair tightened even more, his face inches from hers

"you didn't want then to have him both his parents then why now huh?"

With a surge of adrenaline, Y/n pushed against Katsuki's chest, trying to free herself from his grasp.

But he was too strong, his anger fueling his strength as he pressed her harder against the wall.

"Let me go," Y/n pleaded, her voice strained with pain.

But Katsuki's grip only tightened, his fingers twisting in her hair. "You're not going anywhere," he growled, his face contorted with rage.

Y/n could feel tears welling up in her eyes, a mixture of fear and anger coursing through her veins. She knew she had to find a way to calm him down, to make him see reason.

"Please, Katsuki," she begged, her voice barely a whisper. "Let's talk about this. For Kiwi's sake."

But Katsuki's rage seemed to consume him, his eyes wild and unyielding. In that moment, as she stared into his furious gaze.

Trapped against the wall, with Katsuki's grip on her hair cutting into her scalp, Y/n felt a sense of helplessness wash over her. 

"I just want to be a mother to him"

Katsuki's laugh was bitter and mocking. "A mother ?"

he ripped her black dress from the front, the fabric tearing apart with a loud rip.

Y/n gasped in shock as the dress fell away, leaving her exposed before him.

Her breasts were now fully revealed to Katsuki, the air cool against her bare skin.

As Katsuki's gaze fell upon Y/n's exposed breasts, he couldn't help but notice how they seemed fuller and larger than before.

The sight of her breasts, swollen with milk and heaving with each breath, stirred conflicting emotions within Katsuki

"Just because of these," Katsuki's voice was rough and filled with anger as he roughly grabbed her milk-filled breast. Y/n gasped at the sudden pain and humiliation, her body tensing under his grip.

Y/n's body trembled as she leaned back against the wall, her arm reaching up to hold onto Katsuki's wrist that was tangled in her hair.

The rough grip on her hair caused her to arch her back, pushing her chest forward and exposing her breasts even more to him.With her other hand, Y/n reached out to grip Katsuki's hand that was harshly squeezing her right breast.

As Katsuki's hand reached out and harshly grabbed one of Y/n's breasts, he couldn't help but feel the softness of them beneath his fingers.

the fullness and warmth of her breast, and he could feel the weight of it in his palm.

She knew she should push him away, to resist his touch and his advances.

But there was a part of her that couldn't deny the desperation of being desired, of being wanted by the man she loved.

But this was not the touch of desire this was the touch of hatred and pain.

With a surge of desperation and, she summoned all her strength and pushed against Katsuki's chest, trying to break free from his grasp.

But he was too strong, his anger fueling his strength as he held her firmly in place..

"Please, Katsuki, stop," Y/n pleaded, her voice trembling with pain.

he couldn't help but notice the color of her nipples.

They were a dusky shade of pink, the rosy hue standing out against the pale skin of her breast.

But Katsuki's grip only tightened, his fingers digging into her flesh as he continued to assault her.

Y/n could feel tears streaming down her cheeks, a mixture of anguish and anger overwhelming her.In that moment, as she stared into Katsuki's eyes, filled with rage and hatred,

His thumb brushed lightly over the hardened nipple

"Just having these don't make you a mother," Katsuki's words cut through Y/n like a knife, his voice filled with venom as he continued to grip her milk-filled breast harshly.

She could feel the ache radiating through her body, the sharp pain of his rough touch making her cry out in both physical and emotional agony.

the father of their child, treat her with such cruelty and disdain?

"Just because you can feed him doesn't mean you're a mother," Katsuki's voice was filled with contempt, his eyes blazing with hatred as he stared down at her.

Y/n's heart shattered at his words, her chest constricting with pain. She had thought that nurturing and caring for their baby, providing him with the milk that sustained him, made her a mother. But in Katsuki's eyes, it was nothing.

The weight of his words pressed down on her, crushing her spirit as she struggled against his grip.

She felt stripped bare, not just physically with her breast exposed, but emotionally laid bare as well.

as Katsuki harshly grabbed her milk-filled breasts, squeezing them with a cruel force.

She cried out in pain as a few drops of milk oozed out, .

As Katsuki squeezed Y/n's breast harshly, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, he couldn't help but notice something different. There, at the tip of her nipple, he saw drops of milk oozing out.

Y/n's breath caught in her throat as she felt the pressure of his grip on her breast, the sensation heightened by the milk that flowed from her nipple.

She gasped as Katsuki's thumb brushed against the hardened peak, coaxing more drops of milk to the surface.

Katsuki couldn't tear his gaze away from the drops of milk that dripped from Y/n's nipple, his thumb brushing against the wetness as he continued to squeeze her breast.

The room seemed to spin around her as she felt Katsuki's rough hands on her, his grip unyielding and cruel.

She could hear the sound of her own rapid breaths, the pounding of her heart echoing in her ears.

As Katsuki continued to squeeze her breasts, Y/n felt a wave of nausea and helplessness wash over her.

."Please, Katsuki, stop," she pleaded, her voice trembling with both pain and desperation.

With a desperate need for release, Y/n arched her back even further, pushing her breast against Katsuki's hand as she offered herself to him completely. The heat of his touch against her sensitive flesh, the roughness of his grip combined with the wetness of her milk, sent her over the edge.

Katsuki's jaw clenched with a mixture of desire and restraint as he felt the drops of milk wetting his fingers.

His eyes were fixed on her nipples, her face contorted in pleasure, her eyes squeezed shut as she moaned softly.

The sight was intoxicating, the raw and primal need that burned between them igniting a fire within him that he couldn't ignore.

Katsuki's fingers continued to tease her nipple, gathering the drops of milk that pooled there before bringing them to his lips.

Y/n gasped as she felt his tongue swirl around her nipple, the wetness of her milk on his tongue sending a jolt of pleasure through her body.

With a primal hunger, he sucked harshly at her nipple, his tongue swirling around the hardened peak as he drank deeply from her. Y/n cried out in pleasure, her back arching off the bed as she felt the heat building within her.The roughness of Katsuki's suckling, coupled with the wetness of her milk on his tongue, sent waves of pleasure coursing through her body.

As Katsuki tasted the warm, sweet milk that flowed from Y/n's breast, he couldn't help but groan .

The sensation was unlike anything he had ever experienced before.

he released her nipple from his mouth and moved to her other breast, his hand squeezing her neglected boob firmly.

she felt Katsuki's fingers digging into the soft flesh of her breast, his thumb brushing against her hardened nipple.

With his other hand, Katsuki gripped Y/n's waist firmly, holding her in place as he continued to feast on her. He could feel her body trembling beneath his touch.

As he continued to drink from her breast, his movements becoming more frantic and urgent,.

The pleasure was overwhelming.

She clung to him desperately, her fingers tangling in his hair as she urged him on.

The roughness of Katsuki's suckling, coupled with the wetness of her milk on his tongue, sent waves of pleasure coursing through her body.

she could feel the pressure of the vacuum his mouth created.

As Y/n looked down at Katsuki, she couldn't help but be captivated by the sight before her. His eyes were closed in pure bliss, his mouth latched onto her nipple with a fierce hunger.

Y/n gasped as she felt herself being pulled up, her body pressed against Katsuki's chest as he devoured her breast

His mouth was still attached to her nipple.

Y/n's legs dangled over the ground as Katsuki held her firmly above him, her body pressed against his chest.

Katsuki's grip on her waist was firm and unyielding, his fingers digging into her skin as he pulled her closer to him. He wanted to taste every inch of her, to drink from her until she was completely spent.

As Katsuki opened his mouth wider, he eagerly took more of Y/n's breast into his mouth, feeling the weight of them inside his warm mouth.

she felt herself being engulfed by his mouth, the sensation of him taking more of her breast.

Feeling the intense pleasure coursing through her body, Y/n struggled with conflicting desires. As much as she wanted Katsuki to continue, she knew that if he drank all the milk, there wouldn't be enough left for their baby, Kiwi.

With a mix of reluctance and urgency, Y/n gently ruffled Katsuki's hair, her voice barely a whisper as she said,

"Let go, Katsuki... Kiwi needs it."

Katsuki's mouth was still latched onto her breast, his lips and tongue working her .

He was lost in the pleasure of drinking from her, his desire consuming him completely.

But at her words, a moment of realization washed over him

He paused, his mouth still against her breast as he processed what she had said.

Slowly, reluctantly, Katsuki released her breast from his mouth.

Katsuki practically remove his hands from her waist, she lost her balance and fell to the ground with a soft thud. The sudden change in his demeanor, from intense desire to cold detachment,

She scrambled to sit up, feeling a mix of confusion and fear at the shift in his mood.

Katsuki stood before her, his composure regained but the anger simmering just beneath the surface.

His crimson eyes bore into hers with a fierce intensity, a silent warning of the storm that was brewing inside him.

Y/n's heart raced as she tried to read his expression, unsure of what would come next.

"Katsuki," she began, her voice trembling slightly. "I... I thought..."

"You know what? You are right," Katsuki said, his voice filled with malice. "He deserves to have a mother."

his hands moved to his pockets .

Y/n's eyes widened in shock, her heart pounding in her chest knowing where this is going  .

"Katsuki, please..." she started, her voice trembling.

But he cut her off with a cold, cruel laugh.

"I'll get him a mother," he said, the smirk never leaving his lips.

"Katsuki, no..." she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper

as he left her storming off   leaving her alone .

With tears streaming down her face, Y/n whispered to herself, "I will always be there for you, Kiwi. No matter what."

[diezmil10000]

Hi hi, hope you're doing well!! Wanted to ask if you could explain how you pick colours! They're always so appealing to look at... (If you could also explain how you pick blush colours it'd be great! I never manage to pick good ones, no matter how hard I try :'))

hi anon, i'm doing fine!! it's summer right now where i live and that's healing all my problems (⁠◡⁠ ⁠ω⁠ ⁠◡⁠)

i have recorded the process of some of my drawings and everything is posted in my youtube channel (in twitter too), so i'll drop the link here and try my best to explain the coloring part to you. the short answer is that none of the colors you see in my drawings are similar to those i initially picked.

i try to keep my lineart loose but i pay attention to the outlines so i can quickly select the outer parts, invert the selection and fill it with the bucket tool. my base colors are all 100% opaque and i don't use any fancy brushes here.

as to how i pick colors, i never use the color picker tool, i eyeball everything. that's important for me because i tend to make all of them warmer: the greens are dark yellows, the pinks are light reds, and everything that's close to blue is very desaturated. i do this even for drawings that turn out much different later, unless i have a very specific vibe in mind from the beginning. i also never use pure whites for anything, and if something is black i make it part of the lineart.

then i always color my lineart!! there's no trick to that, the layer is in normal mode and i just paint it with a darker color than what's below it. i usually add the shadows and highlights at this stage of the drawing too. you're going to kill me for this but shade with gray set in color burn or linear burn (never multiply). i just don't want to think about color variety at this stage because it makes things more difficult for later. sometimes i add textures and some basic color correction here (curves, color balance, layers set in overlay, etc.) but i mostly leave that for the next part.

as to how i choose blush colors, i usually pick the base color and move it towards the saturated end of the color wheel, and a bit more pink. sometimes i add a multiply layer and airbrush hot red over the base colors at low opacity. coloring the lineart with hot colors surrounding the blush areas helps a lot too :)

i also almost always duplicate the lineart, blur it and set it in linear burn (i paint this layer in a light gray). this adds a lot of depth to the drawing, especially if later combined with the bloom effect.

the key to why the colors in my art pop so much is that i don't enjoy drawing as much as i enjoy postprocessing pictures 😂🤣😅👌✌️👍 once i'm satisfied with the "base" colors i merge everything except the background, open a new canvas and go crazy with filters and textures. that's why i use ibispaint X even if i do the lineart elsewhere (krita), and even if it works a bit wonky with big canvases.

i do something different for each drawing here, so first i'm going to explain my reasoning so that you understand my process: i used to have a problem of using very strong colors that overshadowed my beloved lineart into which i had put a lot of effort, so my goal nowadays is to make everything look less contrasted without losing the visual impact of saturated colors. that way the lineart remains a strong point and not just a way to separate one color from another.

what i usually do is duplicate the new merged layer, set it to exclusion mode, add a gradient map and play with the opacity. then i duplicate that and do the same thing with another gradient or another blending mode. i tend to add like 3-6 layers of bullshit over my drawings, including textures and other filters like "bloom" or "sharpen". i understand everything that's going on there but i don't think too deeply about it, i just pick whatever looks best.

for the final touches i always pull up the saturation and contrast (since a lot of it gets lost in the process), and i usually have to manually change some colors (ibispaint X has a filter to do that) or tweak the curves. then i add chromatic aberration, noise set to overlay and little polka dots set to linear dodge.

here are some comparisons of the before and after of recent drawings. the 1st one is very subtle, but you can clearly see how much warmth and depth it gains it gets after all the postprocessing. the 2nd one is so different that i understand why you're curious about how i pick colors. i don't think i can replicate that look just from picking nice colors, there's a lot more going on!! the 3rd one personally feels like it had potential lost (i liked the yellow highlights), but the colors were too strong and all over the place, so the finished result looks more intimate and calm and i like it a lot more.

thank you for the interest anon, i'm very happy that you like the way i color things and i hope i have explained myself. good luck with your own journey!!